


On Freedom and Other Formalities

by iaso



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Multi, Romance, Self-Insert, Undercover Missions, and genma's doing his best, but like look this fic is hella messy there's a lot of angst, kakashi is chaotic as per usual, these kids are straight up not having a good time, they're all doing their best i love these kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 123,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaso/pseuds/iaso
Summary: When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC





	1. Chapter One

_Happy wife, happy life._

* * *

"Hey."

Genma turns to look at the source of the voice. A young woman stands a few feet away from him in the jonin lounge. A lit cigarette dangles out of her mouth and a wolf the size of a small horse is at her side, its long tongue lolled out the side of its mouth, the pink of it stark against its otherwise pitch-black fur. He gives her a once over—she looks like she would rather be napping underneath a tree than talking to him, with her half-lidded eyes and bored expression.

"Morning," Genma returns.

A couple of other people in the jonin lounge turn to look her way. Curious onlookers, part of the regular crowd that haunts this place, intrigued by the newcomer.

It takes him a full minute to place a name to her face. One he does, he sits up on the couch and closes his book. "Uh… Inuzuka Hiwa, right?"

"Yeah," she says. "I uh… I need a favour."

"What can I do for you?" he asks.

"Marry me."

Genma blinks. "What?"

"It—I need to get married," she says. "Will you do it?"

He shakes his head. He wondered if he heard her incorrectly the first time, but no, he hadn't.

A woman he's met a handful of times in passing asked him to marry her with the same gravity as she might ask somebody for money to buy a candy bar.

Genma blinks. "Sorry, I… what?"

Hiwa shifts her weight onto one leg and cocks a hip. One of her hands drops to rest on it. "Don't make me get down on one knee," she drawls. The joke is a weak attempt to cover her discomfort, in his opinion. "I'll do it, I just don't want to."

"You can't be serious."

"I wish I wasn't."

Upon closer inspection, Genma sees a dullness in her hazel eyes and the bags that frame them, the dishevelment of the two chocolate brown braids that hang down from either side of her head, and decides that there's more to the story than what she's presenting.

She holds herself with scrabbled together confidence; Genma sees through the bravado.

Beneath it all, he spies the visage of somebody falling to pieces. Parsing the details of a damaged portrait is second nature to him, at this point, after how long he had to look at his broken reflection following the Kyuubi attack.

"You sure have a way of making a guy feel special," Genma mutters. He turns his head to glance around the room, clicking the senbon between his teeth. "Buy me lunch and we'll talk—I need some details, here."

The thought of marrying her is absurd, but if he can get a free meal out of it then he's willing to at least hear her out. That feels like the politest response, all things considered. And who knows? Maybe she'll make a decent case for herself. Stranger things have happened to him.

Hiwa treats him to a feral smirk that lacks genuineness but reveals a set of wicked canines. "Deal."

.

.

Hiwa has lost her mind.

It's not a conclusion she comes to with any issue, as right now she's sitting across from a ninja who she's heard of but never spoken to in her life, and she's shooting to tie the knot with him. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Hiwa purses her lips, avoiding Genma's gaze. Actually, yeah, she's taking that out—it gives her a reason to explain why she's approached this from the most idiotic angle she could have managed. She should have a better plan than this, but right now she's grasping at straws.

She places a cough into the crook of her elbow and lifts her cup to her lips, washing the shame down with a sip of green tea. She hides a grimace. Even seventeen years into this life, her taste buds haven't quite acclimated to the Japanese tea flavours. But avoiding tea altogether is culturally unacceptable, to her poor fortune. So here she is. Drinking it anyways. What gets her through is that a few token sips are all she needs to take before she can let it go cold.

Their lunch arrives and Genma takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows, all without removing the senbon from where it dangles at the edge of his lips. He repeats it a few times. His dentist must hate him.

After he's thoroughly started in on his sandwich, he directs a pensive look at her. "Alright, Inuzuka—"

"Just call me Hiwa. We're discussing a marriage proposal, here. I think we can loosen up a little."

He considers over another bite. "Fair," he says. "So, Hiwa—spill. What the hell is going on here?"

"I'm being forced into an arranged marriage. Or, at least, the Nara and Inuzuka clan are trying to force me into one—whoever wins their little spat gets to marry me off into their clan."

At her side, Rei gives off a low growl. Hiwa stoops down and offers a few reassuring pats.

"Nara and Inuzuka?"

"Dad is—_was_ an Inuzuka. And my… mom is a Nara."

Genma raises an eyebrow and makes a 'go on' gesture. "Uh-huh."

"The Inuzuka are claiming rights to my marriage because I was raised as an Inuzuka," she says. "The Nara are claiming the rights because, with..." She lets out a long breath. Clears her throat. "Without my dad, now, my mom is my only living relative. She also happens to be the sister of the last clan head."

"Ah," Genma says with a wince. "Yikes."

"The Inuzuka are trying to regrow their numbers after so many were lost on the frontlines during the war. The Nara want to preserve their bloodline, 'cause even being half a Nara, any kids I have are going to have a chance at being able to use their shadow techniques," she says, not bothering to hide the derision from her voice. She leans back in her chair, letting her fork fall onto her plate with a dull clatter. "Both of them want a crack at whatever my uterus is capable of spitting out."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, just a bit younger than you."

If Genma is surprised she knows that about him, he doesn't show it. "Bit young for a ninja to get married and have kids, isn't it?" he asks. "You've still got a few years left in your prime before they'd want you off the active roster."

Hiwa feels her smile turn bitter and brittle. "You'd be surprised how many power clan men think women are more useful with a baby in their belly than a kunai in their hand, regardless."

Genma sighs. "Right. Okay." From thin air, another senbon materializes, and he starts to weave it between his fingers. His face is drawn. "So, what? You think they're just going to _let you_ go out and get married?"

"If I elope, what can they do to stop me?"

"Annul the marriage?"

Hiwa shakes her head. "They won't get it," she says. "Lord Hokage dislikes stepping into clan confrontations as it is—he won't reverse something that puts a problem to rest."

From what her dad told her and what snippets she's witnessed with her own eyes, she knows that squabbles between clans get brushed off more often than not, especially in the case of the Inuzuka and Nara as neither have blood limits. This would be a whole other can of worms if she were half Hyuuga, with a dojutsu or some other blood limit on the line. But there isn't one, not really. Nara techniques are more tied to their unique yin-chakra development rather than an actual blood limit. Their claim is weaker because having Nara blood only gives them a better chance of being able to learn the shadow techniques; a lot of people in the village could potentially learn the Nara techniques if taught young enough and nurtured properly.

When the cards are laid out and the chips fall, the stakes boil down to pride and a slight bump or drop in their population, and she doesn't think they'll have a good shot at an annulment should she nab a husband under their noses.

Honestly, from what she's heard from Jiraiya about Lord Hokage, he might take her side just to spite them for wasting his time on something so petty. Because it would go to Lord Hokage if they escalated. She would take it there. She was a special jonin, not a full jonin, but that title still brings some power with it. If they tried to go through the easy routes, she'd cause a fuss. If they tried to strong-arm her, she'd dig in her heels. Whatever it took to throw a wrench in their plans and make their lives miserable.

"I hear marriage isn't that bad," Genma says. "I mean, I hadn't ever planned for it _myself_, but consensus is that it's not the worst thing in the world."

Hiwa raises a hand to tug on one of her braids and stares out at the various couples gathered at the cafe. She sees hands linked across tables, plates that have two forks poking from them rather than one, and conversations and laughter bubbling around her; she sees a whole lot of something she remembers in vague snippets and what-ifs.

She remembers the smell of coffee in the morning, poured into two cups and not one, already prepped with a splash of cream and two sugar by loving hands, just how she likes it. What it felt like to wake up in a bed weighed down by somebody else. That slight jump in her heart, something that wasn't love yet but could have been, one day, if she took the time to nurture it like a flicker of fire on kindling.

The feel of his hand on the small of her back and the way he smiled at her when she came home from work is burned into her brain, but she can't recall what his name was, the sound lost in translation on more than one front.

And she wants that again. She wants a second chance. So, she'll raise hell before she lets the Inuzuka _or _the Nara take that chance away from her. Not when they have no regard for her. They've made it clear that she's not a person to them, with interests and desires of her own—she's just a fertile female that can produce pups to repopulate the pack, or birth a child with the spiritual capacity to control shadows.

Hiwa pulls a cigarette from out of her flak jacket pocket and lights it with a snap of her fingers. She takes a drag, lets it burn down her throat and warm her lungs. She releases a cloud of smoke in a gusty sigh.

Her gaze rests on him. "I want to find that out for myself, you know?"

Genma meets her eye for half a second and then breaks contact to stare skyward, sinking into his seat. He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Am I the first person you've come to?" he asks.

"No," she says. "You're the fourth."

He nods as if he expected this answer. "Everybody else refused?"

"Yeah. You're the first one to hear me out, actually."

His face twists with some emotion. It's too brief for Hiwa to translate. She wonders if it was pity she saw ingrained in his features, which isn't the worst thing for her. She doesn't want to get through this by manipulating him emotionally—that sounds too much like mission Hiwa for her liking—but she won't leave things out to avoid sympathy. That'd be counterproductive.

"I'm not surprised." He pulls himself upright again. "I'm not agreeing, or anything, but what did you have in mind for this?"

_Progress._

"It's all a formality," she says. "We don't have to play at being in love, or act like an actual couple, or spouses, or whatever. We just have to be legally married until the clans forget about this whole thing and I can find an _actual _husband, not just… not just who I'm most likely to make strong babies with." She shrugs. "If you want, we don't even have to be friends."

Genma waves a hand. "Nu-uh," he says. "Look, if you're running around with my last name, I'm not going to just ignore you."

Hiwa's heart skips a beat, and she holds her breath. "So?"

He tilts his head. A crooked grin takes over his face and his senbon flicks around from its spot in the corner of his mouth. Now that she takes the time to look at him, _properly _look at him, she can admit that he's a cute one, with a dimple and a button nose and hair that looks feather-soft.

"If we can get along for a day then I'll go through with this," he tells her.

"That's it?"

"That's it," he confirms. He offers her a languid shrug. "As long as I can still pursue my actual relationships on the side and I don't end up hating you, I don't particularly care—like I said, I never planned on getting married anyways. It's not really a loss for me."

She smiles, which isn't the friendliest sight in and of itself, but Genma's grin widens in response anyways. "Yeah, alright," she says.

_Get along for one day_. _No problem._


	2. Chapter Two

_Live the unexpected._

* * *

"So this is what you do all day?"

"When I can."

"I suppose this isn't the worst way to live."

Hiwa rolls her head to the side and cracks an eye open to look at him, a drowsy smile on her face. "Good to hear."

She hears a low chuckle rumble in his chest. His arms cushion his head and his eyes stay shut as the summer sun envelops them in warmth.

The breeze drifts by every so often and places kisses across their skin, but it's with no rush, no fervour, like a lazy lover first thing in thing morning. It calms Hiwa's heart like nothing else. And from the slight smile on Genma's lips and looseness in his shoulders, she's not the only one.

Hiwa's smile widens. She shifts onto her back and Rei, her current pillow, huffs at the movement. She lifts her forehead protector from its place around her neck and settles it over her eyes to block out the light streaming down on them through the foliage of the tree.

"So, how did you find this place?" Genma asks.

"I used to hide from my genin sensei to avoid training," Hiwa drawls. "The village has so many remote nooks and crannies if you know where to look."

"Wait, did it actually work?"

"Not even close," she says. "Hitomi found me each time—the longest I think it ever lasted was half an hour, and that was just because she didn't leave to come find me right away." The memories of that time flood her mind and bring her a sense of comfort. "She said the only reason she never punished me for it was that I was learning how to hide my trail and evade enemies in the process. I tried genjutsu, I tried having Rei fake a trail to lead her off, I tried leaving traps around the area…"

"That sounds like more work than just going to training."

"It was. Worth it, though."

"Because you learned how to evade capture?"

"Because I now know all the best napping spots in the village."

Genma snorts. "Any favourites?"

"A few."

"Is this one?"

"Maybe."

"Is it in the top ten, at least?"

"Thinking I didn't pull out all the stops to impress you?"

Genma scoffs, and Hiwa wonders if he's ever done work in torture and interrogation that she doesn't know about.

It's lighthearted and with innocent intent, not unwarranted in any sense, but she knows what he's doing—he's conducting an investigation. He has been since they left the cafe. She sees no issue in playing along. She isn't going to hide anything from him because _that_ sounds like a recipe for disaster (she wants to win him over, after all, and lying won't get her any brownie points), but she has her secrets, like all shinobi. She won't give him _everything_, not while there's still a chance that he'll leave her in the dust.

"How about you?" she asks. "Any fun and exciting genin stories?"

_Two can play that game._

"More than you can imagine," he says. "My genin years were… exciting."

"Why is that?"

"You ever heard of Maito Gai?"

Has anybody in Konoha _not _heard of him? Still, she says, "The guy who runs around the village on his hands in green spandex, screaming about youth?"

"Yeah."

"Never spoken to him," Hiwa says. "I've seen him around and heard of him, though. It sounds like he's… ah…"

"Interesting," Genma offers.

"Interesting."

"He's the nicest person I've ever met," Genma says, "but he's a character. Made for a rather unique genin experience."

"I bet."

The senbon clicks against his teeth. "But he's cool. Still train with him, and all that, even if I'm feeling like being steamrolled."

She laughs. "I know that feeling," she says. "Training with Hiro was always like that."

"Hiro?"

The smile withers from her face and something cold settles over her chest. She turns onto her side, putting her back to him. "Yeah. One of my genin teammates."

The grass to her right rustles but she doesn't move back to look at him.

.

.

Genma holds the door open for Hiwa and motions her inside with a wave of his arm. She raises an eyebrow, either amused or unimpressed, he can't figure, but steps through the threshold into the quaint shop.

"Welcome to Toraya," he says. "The best sweet shop in the village."

"Huh," Hiwa replies. "I didn't think you were the sweet type."

Genma shrugs. "I'm a sucker for pumpkin mochi, and this place never fails to impress."

They walk around the store.

Hiwa approaches one of the displays. She places her hand against the glass and stares at the various cakes and candies and desserts, her eyes darting around the offerings, cataloguing them in quick order, and slouches toward the next selection. Genma slips his hands into his pockets and follows along a couple of metres behind her.

Her Inuzuka heritage is clear in her appearance, from the colour of her hair to the wolfish qualities in her facial features and expressions to the crimson markings that streak down her cheeks, but there's no doubting the Nara blood that runs through her veins. She has the freakish brand of intelligence and the overt laziness that the Nara are known for—if he let her, he's confident she would have slept the day away lounging beneath the tree.

He watches as she stops, pauses, and pokes a finger against the glass—she's pointing at the mochi. The shopkeeper transfers it into a bag and hands it to Hiwa, then turns to face Genma.

"Hello, dear," she says, the age lines on her face creasing. "It's lovely to see you."

"You as well, ma'am."

"I'm guessing you'll take the same as your lovely lady friend here?"

Genma sidles up to Hiwa. He brushes his shoulder against hers, and Saya gives them a wide, toothy smile. "'Spose I will."

She bags up another couple and hands them to him. "Here you are."

"Thank you."

When Genma reaches for his wallet she clicks her tongue and shakes her head, wisps of grey hair swishing around her face. "They're on the house today, Genma."

"That's very kind of you," Hiwa cuts in, "but really—"

"Nonsense. You kids go have fun."

Hiwa hesitates, shifts her eyes towards Genma, and then leans forward in a bow. Her braids flop forward like playground swings pushed around by the breeze. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

The second Hiwa has her back to the woman, Saya leans close and winks. "So," she whispers. "You're dating again, are you?"

Hiwa, who has only gotten a few steps away and is nowhere near out of earshot, not by even the most basic ninja standards, stiffens at this. Then, her shoulders shake and Genma hears a wheeze of suppressed laughter.

"Something like that."

Saya hums. "Denying an old lady her gossip?"

"I'm sure you've gotten more than enough already, eh?"

"No such thing, dear. You'll learn that when you're older."

Genma rolls his eyes and tosses a wave at Saya over his shoulder as they walk out the door.

They reenter the bustling village streets, the heat of the day and the noise of the crowd hitting Genma all at once. Summer in Konoha means two things: stifling temperatures and crowded marketplaces. Even as evening approaches, with the sky beginning to dim, neither of these drop in severity compared to earlier in the afternoon. Genma much prefers fall, when the temperatures stay low and the crowds are thin.

The ninken rises when it sees them. It shakes itself out and lowers its head to rub its nose against Hiwa's thigh, looking at her with pleading eyes. She breaks off a chunk of mochi and holds it out to the massive creature. It sweeps it from her palm with a swipe of its tongue.

Hiwa tosses him a look. "You let her think we're on a date for free mochi."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement," she says.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye—this time, he _knows _she's amused. He can see the spark of mischief dancing in her eyes and the upward tilt of her lips as she watches the crowds around them.

"No point in ruining a sweet old lady's fun," he tells her.

"Mhm," Hiwa mumbles over a bite of mochi. She chews and swallows. "You're just cheap, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"At least you're honest."

"Could I lie to you?"

"Doubtful," she says. She raises her hand from where it rests on her ninken's back and taps her nose. "I can smell when you lie."

"Huh. I thought that was a rumour."

People laugh and joke in the jonin lounge about how the Inuzuka—specifically Inuzuka Tsume, the sharp woman that she is—can smell fear and lies from a mile away.

"You release hormones when you lie," she says. "I can hear your heartbeat pick up too."

"That's kind of terrifying, actually."

"It should be."

Her upturned lips split out into a full grin. It's not a pleasing expression in the way one expects; it's feral and sly and every time Hiwa does that, all Genma can do is stare at those teeth and wonder how hard she has to bite to rip out a person's throat. Not hard, he wagers. His eyes fall to the ninken that slinks beside her—if she doesn't finish the job, he knows the wolf will.

"Out of curiosity," he says, the thought prompting him, "what do you do?"

She wears a flak jacket and the jonin blues, but she's young, and she doesn't strike him as insane enough to hit the milestone early. Anybody who hits jonin before the age of eighteen has screws loose, no exceptions. And her head seems to be on straight.

Hiwa crumples up the mochi bag and tosses it into a nearby trash can without bothering to look. It flies right into the open bin, not even touching the rims on the way in. "Tokubetsu jonin specializing in civilian-level infiltration," she answers. "I do a lot of tracking, too. If you gotta find dirt on a merchant or minor noble, I'm your girl." There's a pause. "You?"

"Assassination and seduction."

She tilts her head and eyes him up, but in the way that he feels he's being dissected rather than checked out. "Fitting."

"Yeah?"

She hums her assent.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says.

"You're pretty."

His feet almost falter. He watches her from his peripheral but she's not looking at him. Instead, she's watching the crowd around them. "Pretty?"

"Yeah, pretty," she says. "You look like you would have been a cute baby."

"Huh."

His answer piques her interest. She stares at him, her eyes roaming his face and then shifting down to his posture, reigniting that sense that she's examining him, studying him like he's a fascinating specimen. "Is that weird to say?"

"Maybe? I've never been called pretty, before. But I don't mind it."

"Oh." She shifts away from him and stares back ahead. "Noted."

.

.

They walk in silence, but internally, Hiwa's mind is flying a mile a minute.

She never fails to find it interesting to examine how people react to compliments. A lot can be learned from a person, that way. Do they take them in stride? Do they push back against them? Do they seem flattered?

Paying a man a compliment that's inherently associated with femininity is one of her favourites. If it sets them on edge, their sense of masculinity might be fragile. Or maybe they have a very rigid sense of masculine and feminine ideals. If they don't react outwardly, they might be more secure in their masculinity, or simply more in tune with femininity and the like. A man who takes skincare very seriously, for example, might not mind being called pretty or being told he has pretty skin.

She isn't certain yet where Genma falls.

He was startled by it from unfamiliarity but accepting once he got over the shock. And not in an egotistical way; he didn't preen about it. Simply took it in stride.

Given his line of work, she's sure the concept that other people find him attractive isn't anything new. He probably hears it a lot. She takes another look at him in the corner of her eye. Yeah, he definitely hears it a lot.

She already knew where his specializations lay, honestly. She just felt like asking was the polite thing to do. And it would have looked weird if she didn't ask because the last thing she wants to do is let on the fact that she knows this much about him before having met him. That's not a good look, and she'd rather not chase him off now.

Shiranui Genma, special jonin, primarily does assassination work with a fifty-fifty chance of a side of seduction. He's also a member of the Hokage's guard platoon, handpicked for the job by Minato when he was only fourteen. Which, to her, goes a long ways in explaining why he's taken missions at an alarming pace since the Kyuubi attack. That reeks to her of a poor coping mechanism. A common one. It almost made her strike him off her list, until she noticed that over the last year and a bit, he slowed down considerably. But overall, he's a competent and accomplished ninja. His record is impressive considering he's not even twenty years old, yet. Not for another few months.

Yeah. She picked an interesting one.

.

.

Hiwa turns to look at Genma when he makes a small noise of recognition.

Her eyes shift to match his gaze, and she spots a shinobi who's working his way through the crowd in their direction.

"Rai," Genma says as the man approaches, nodding his head in greeting. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, Lord Hokage's been sending me all around the continent," the man answers. He glances at Hiwa and Rei, his eyes widening a fraction on the latter of the two. Hiwa holds off a grin and reaches over to pat Rei on the back. "Who's your friend?"

There's no question in Hiwa's mind that she _has_ seen his face around the village, the massive scar that stretches across his left cheek and the bridge of his nose serving as a distinguishable feature, yet she can't recall his name. It itches at the back of her mind but refuses to come to the forefront of her thoughts.

"Inuzuka Hiwa," Genma says and points to her. "Hiwa, this is Namiashi Raidou."

The name clicks in her mind—there it is. _That_ is a name she hears around the village. He's a few years older than her but has built up a reputation as one of, if not_ the _most competent assassins within the village, second only to Hatake Kakashi. He sports a near spotless record. Not to mention that he was one of Minato's personal guards, too, like Genma.

"Pleasure to meet you," she says.

Raidou looks between the two of them. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not really," Genma answers. "We're just out and about."

"Uh-huh."

Genma rolls his eyes. "I'm serious, it's not a date," he says. "We're just… a couple of friends hanging out."

Her head jerks up, eyes sharp. Slowly, she says, "Yeah?"

He shrugs. "Sure."

Hiwa sucks in a breath.

Raidou flicks his attention between the two of them and stops on Genma with narrow eyes. "Okay, what—"

"Why don't you come over for dinner tonight, Rai," Genma says. "We'll talk then."

A frown takes over Raidou's features. "Yeah," he says. He looks confused by the abrupt and clear dismissal of the conversation, but Hiwa doesn't hear any anger in his voice. "We will."

He walks past Genma and claps him on the shoulder, then disappears into the crowd almost as soon as he had appeared from it.

Hiwa doesn't care.

"You meant what I think you did, right?" she asks.

"I can see us being friends," Genma says. "I can see this working out."

"You're absolutely sure about this?" she presses. "You can't back out on me after a couple of days if you change your mind—I'll be _screwed_ if you do that."

"I wouldn't put you in that position. You have my word."

It's stupid, in her mind, that she has no issue trusting him. She has barely spoken to him, knows him only so far as she could glean through his records and what pieces of the puzzle he's revealed throughout the day.

Yet, she _knows_ that she can trust him. She can feel it in her bones.

She laughs. It's breathless and soft and an expression of disbelief, but it's a laugh. "Great," she says. "Let's go get married."

"Wait—now?"

"Yes, now," she says. "There's no telling when the negotiations are going to finish—I could wake up tomorrow and have my match already arranged, for all I know."

Genma scratches the back of his head.

A small eternity passes between the two of them as people continue to walk past them, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Hiwa doesn't dare look away from Genma.

"Yeah, alright. Let's go get married."

.

.

Twenty minutes later, they walk out of the administrative building of the village, Shiranui Genma and Shiranui Hiwa in the eyes of the law. They are now husband and wife and each clutches a slip of paper that proves as much.

It's an odd feeling for Hiwa.

When the idea first came to her mind, she never thought it would work. She saw it as a fleeting, desperate attempt to avoid what was inevitable, a last-ditch effort to secure her right to happiness. Yet, here she stands, her whole body tingling in the wake of her success; she feels free.

Genma turns to her and cocks his head. "So, Shiranui Hiwa—wanna come over for dinner?" he asks. "You might as well meet Rai."

The form of address—her _name_, now—has her mouth curving up in a wry smirk. "I think I have to pass," she answers. "I need a nap."

"Tomorrow?"

She hesitates. Even if she wants to curl up and return to her seclusion, she owes him this. She needs to at least make an effort.

"Alright," she agrees. "I'll drop by your house at six tomorrow."

"Great; any requests? I hear I'm quite the cook."

"Whatever is fine, I'm not picky."

He gives her a wink and a wave. A few of the women standing near him in the street turn to each other and giggle behind their palms, exchanging furtive glances. "See you then," he says.

Half the village is going to be at her throat for being married to him, regardless of whether or not it's real. And that's a modest estimate. She wasn't feeding his ego when she called him pretty—he is, in a clinical, scientific sense. His face is symmetrical, outside of the fact that he only has one dimple, but that break in the formula makes him more endearing, somehow. His smile is easy and constant. There's a warmth to the light behind his eyes like it feels to sit around a campfire in the middle of the night. Which all seems obvious, given that as he said, he works in seduction. Of course, he has all these things, or he'd be out of a job.

But it does make him quite the popular crush around the village. Seeing how people react to thinking he's off the market will be interesting.

She heads towards the Inuzuka compound, pulling a cigarette from her pack and placing it between her lips, Rei trailing behind her at a lumbering pace.

She'll have to wait and see.


	3. Chapter Three

_When we are no longer able to change a_

_situation, we are challenged to change ourselves._

* * *

Genma is in the kitchen, his legs propped up on the table and his chair tipped back, a cup of tea in his hands when Raidou walks through the door. He hears a jacket come off and shoes tossed onto the floor, then the soft pad of slippers against hardwood.

"Sit," Genma says, not looking at him. "Food's almost ready."

Raidou lands in the chair across from him with a _thud_ and pins Genma with an expectant look. "So, who was she?"

"I already told you, her name's Hiwa."

"Yeah, alright," Raidou says. "But what is she? A fling? New girlfriend?"

Genma shrugs. "She's my wife now, actually."

Raidou starts to laugh but halts the sound when he catches Genma's face. "You're shitting me."

"Nah."

"What—you're _married_?"

"As of… uh… two hours ago? Yeah."

"I was gone for a month and you're _married_? Wait, that—_two hours ago_? As in, after I ran into you? _You two were on your way to get married_?"

Is Genma a bad friend because he enjoys the sheer incredulity on Raidou's face? Maybe. But he's not bothered by that—funny is funny.

"Relax, Rai," Genma says. "We're not really married. Legally, yeah, but it's not what you think."

"Explain it, then."

"She needed somebody to help her get out of a bad spot she was in," Genma says. "She had two clans fighting over who got to choose her marriage, so she asked if I'd marry her until things settle down."

"And how long is that?"

Genma raises half a shoulder. "She wasn't sure, and I don't care either way."

"You really should," Raidou mutters. He rubs his thumb over the bridge of his nose, right at the start of the scar that rips across the other half of his face. "I want to say that I can't believe you actually married her, just like that, but I honestly can. It's such a _you _thing to do."

"Yeah, well. No big deal."

"It_ is_ a big deal," Raidou says. "You just gave her your name. You're her _spouse_."

"In the eyes of the law."

"How many people are going to know that?"

"Anybody who asks. It's not going to be a secret that we're not an actual couple."

"What about if you do actually want to get married?" Raidou asks. "What then?"

"I won't," Genma says.

"What if you fall in love with somebody, Gen? You're going to want to marry them."

"I don't need to marry somebody to prove I love them. You know that. And I'm not exactly planning on falling in love soon, anyways."

Raidou sighs. He gets up and walks into the kitchen, and the sound of the kettle being set to boil follows seconds later. "Are you at least getting something out of this?" Raidou asks, leaning his back against the counter.

"No," Genma says. "Why would I? She didn't force me into it, I agreed."

"If you aren't getting something, why do it in the first place?" Raidou counters. "Look, I get it—you don't care about marriage. That's cool, fine, whatever. But you're still going out of your way to help this girl. What's so special about her?"

"I don't know."

Raidou stares at him and Genma stares back; the timer on the oven beeps, beeps, beeps.

Genma lets gravity straighten his chair, the legs smacking against the floor, and stands up. His shoulders are stiff. He eases them back down.

Something in Raidou's expression seems to soften.

Genma makes his way over to the oven. The smell of dinner, some baked vegetables with salmon and rice, wafts around the apartment, and it makes his apartment feel lived in, again. He can't remember the last time he thought that. Or the last time somebody other than him was in it—not that he's had the place long. But since he moved in last year, Raidou's the only person who's ever visited.

He pulls the food out and waves an oven mitt overtop of it to let the steam clear away.

Well, with Hiwa in the picture, that's going to change. He supposes that's a good thing, isn't it?

"When are you seeing her next?" Raidou asks.

"Tomorrow. She's coming over for dinner."

"I want to meet her—not what I got earlier. I want to _actually _meet her."

_That makes two of us_. "Fine," Genma says. "You can come, as long as you promise not to be an ass."

"I'm not—" Raidou stops himself, scowls. "Yeah, alright. I'll be nice."

"Good. Now help me get all of this to the table."

.

.

Hiwa lays on the couch in her living room, stretched out over the white cushions like a cat taking a nap. The lamp behind her head is switched on to illuminate the pages of her book as she reads late into the evening, flipping the pages of her latest mystery thriller.

A noble lady ends up dead with no clue save for a single scrap of fabric found on the murder scene. She was engaged to be married, had an illicit affair with a stable boy, and was known to have her finger stuck into a fair few rotten pies. So many possibilities for who could have gotten the lady. And they're all red herrings.

The handmaid is the killer, of course; it's always the handmaid.

She always finds that interesting as, in her own experience, when it comes to real-life crimes in the courts of Fire Country, it's _never _the handmaid—unless the handmaid is a shinobi in disguise, who infiltrated the ranks in an attempt to gain information. She _has_ seen that one. And what a mess it was.

But none of her books are ever that interesting, or true to life. The handmaid always does the dirty deed in some convoluted attempt at revenge against the generic highborn lady. Then she gets caught at the end, repents for her sins, and dies, either by her own hands or that of a samurai. If the author is feeling frisky, that samurai will be her lover. If they're feeling _extra _frisky—and male, and problematic, and probably with a name that starts with 'Jir' and ends in 'aiya'—there's a little bit of sexual assault thrown in there. You know, just to keep things spicy.

Hiwa sighs.

Music from her radio drones on in the background, a station playing light pop. All the songs bleed into each other, but in a good way, which is what makes it her favourite white noise station. A couple of floral candles on the table flicker in the dark evening and they permeate the air around her with the warm smell of cinnamon. She has a thin blanket strewn over her, and her free hand clutches a cup of hot chocolate, with two marshmallows and a dash of cinnamon.

She has everything she needs for a relaxing evening.

The room is empty aside from her; Rei disappeared to hunt for her dinner, a necessity given that, due to her size, she needs way more food than Hiwa could ever hope to provide her with. Though Rei likes being able to hunt. Recreational killing is good for the wolf soul, along with ear pats and sunbathing.

A hand pounds against her door and disrupts the peaceful, silent atmosphere.

Hiwa flips the page of her book.

A minute passes, and whoever it is knocks again, more loudly.

Hiwa reaches over and turns up the radio's volume.

"Inuzuka Hiwa, if you don't open this door in one minute I'm breaking it down."

She sighs, her book dropping into her lap and her head lolling back against the pillows piled up behind her. "I'm not home, Taru."

"Forty-two, forty-one, forty—"

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming!"

Hiwa tosses off her blanket and lets it fall into a heap at her feet. She dumps her book on the table.

In a few strides, she's at her front door and pulling it open.

"Taru." She eyes the older man up. "A bit late for a visit, isn't it?"

"The clan council wants to talk to you," Taru says. His ninken, a medium-sized beagle named Hachi, yips at her in greeting.

Hiwa kneels to rub his head.

_That's no good._

Word travels fast in Konoha, especially amongst the clans. She figured she had at least a day until the Inuzuka were made aware of her newlywed status—she supposes that it must be a slow night if the desk jockeys alerted the clan this fast.

"Did they say what about?" she asks.

"No, just that you were to come immediately."

"Got it," she says. She nods. "Thanks."

Taru folds his arms over his chest and stares her down. "I'm supposed to escort you there, immediately. Tsume doesn't want a repeat of last time."

A small, shit-eating grin pulls at Hiwa's lips. "A few hours of waiting never killed anybody. It's such a nice night, yeah? I'm sure they wouldn't mind—"

"Hiwa."

She sighs. "Fine, okay. Give me a minute to put some actual clothes on." She steps back, leaving the door open, and Taru takes it for the invitation it is.

He steps inside and shucks off his shoes.

"There's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry," she says. "And the water in the kettle is still hot. Tea's in the shelf overtop the sink."

The tea's old. It's been there since her dad bought it because she never drinks it herself. Three-year-old tea should still be fine, though.

He heads off to help himself, and Hiwa heads off towards her bedroom, a frown on her face.

She has her suspicions about what type of punishment the clan council might dole out, but she holds them with a grain of salt. The council is notorious for being unpredictable when it comes to these things. She might get off with a slap on the wrist if the Inuzuka were as close to losing the negotiations as she thinks they were, making her marriage forfeit regardless, but she isn't certain. At worst, she'll be hit with some fines and the Inuzuka will put her on house arrest while they annul the marriage—_at worst_. She doubts they'll go that far, but she'd be stupid to not entertain the possibility.

She throws on a navy blue knee-length dress and some black sandals. She slips her kunai holster onto her thigh, hidden under her dress, and sticks a senbon into the elastic at the bottom of each of her braids where it disappears into the weaves.

Taru is halfway through a cup of lavender tea when she reappears, and she settles down at her kitchen table. "How much trouble am I in?" she asks.

"Enough."

She leans back in her chair, one leg thrown up onto her table and her arm draped over her eyes like she's about to faint. She whines, "Taru, come on!"

Taru gets up and dumps the rest of his tea down the sink. Under the artificial light in the kitchen, the rings hanging on a silver chain around his neck, a worn gold ring and a glistening silver one with a couple of diamonds pressed into it, glint like a couple of stars in the night sky. "You ought to take this more seriously. I think you've really done it, this time, with whatever stunt you pulled."

Hiwa laughs. It echoes around the kitchen like the sound of water dripping in a cave, cold and eerie. "Nothing I've done is any more underhanded or uncalled for than what they've done. If they're upset that I'm throwing their shit back at them, that's their fault, not mine."

"I know that," Taru says. It comes out more soft than Hiwa expects, and she lets her arm fall to look at him again.

He clears his throat and sets the mug down. "Come on. Let's get going. We've taken longer than we should have, as it is."

So Hiwa hauls herself up and troops along after Taru.

The council room isn't far from her home; it's a five-minute walk before she strolls into the meeting room Taru guided her towards.

Rather than a room with three stuffy old men and an old woman as bitter as baker's chocolate, she finds Tsume Inuzuka sat at the table, her expression pinched. Hiwa's steps falter. That's either a great sign or a catastrophic one.

"Hiwa," Tsume says, waving her. "Get in here. We've got some talking to do."

"I was told that the clan council wanted to speak with me," Hiwa says.

Tsume offers a dry smirk. "They did, but I already decided how I was gonna handle this, so I just shooed 'em out of here. They don't need to be here for it."

Hiwa can't decide if that's a good or bad sign. "I see."

Tsume leans forward on the table, setting her elbows on it and resting her chin atop weaved fingers. "So, Shiranui Hiwa. Care to explain?"

"Ah," Hiwa says. "So that's what this is about, then."

Kuromaru lets out a snort at Tsume's feet.

"What, you did somethin' else I need to know 'bout, too?" Tsume says. She doesn't appear annoyed or angered, the smirk still present on her face.

"No? No."

"Hiwa, sit down before I make you sit down."

Hiwa drops into the nearest chair because when Tsume Inuzuka tells you to do something, you do it, no questions asked.

Tsume sighs. She looks like an exasperated parent and not a frustrated clan head. But she supposes being the leader of the Inuzuka is basically the same thing as having a couple hundred disastrous children running around, peeing on displays in Walmart and pantsing the poor fuck being paid minimum wage to smile and say "Welcome to Walmart" for eight hours straight. So if the shoe fits.

Finally, she says, "I won't ask you _why _you did it, because that'd be stupid—I want to know what exactly is your end goal is, here."

Hiwa considers her answer. Lying is out of the question, but vague answers aren't. "I want to be happy with whoever I spend the rest of my life with."

"And a fake marriage with Genma is the way to do it?"

Because she's feeling a little bit petty, she says, "Who says it's fake?"

Tsume scoffs. "Me. You don't run in the same social circles, you don't work the same missions, and I've never once seen you two interact—the chance of you two having a whirlwind romance is as good as my chance of ever getting another husband."

Hiwa holds off a laugh. Yeah, that's about what she expected Tsume to say. "It's a temporary measure," Hiwa says, "until the situation with the Nara clan blows over and marriage restrictions in the clan loosen."

"That could be years."

"Then so be it."

"What if he wants to end this little fake-marriage early?"

"Then we get a divorce and I apply for an exemption from an arranged marriage in the clan—or I just find a new husband before it becomes an issue."

"What if you get neither?"

"Then I'm screwed."

Hiwa gets a laugh for that one.

From what Genma said, she can rely on him to outlast the current restrictions in the clan around marriage for women. With how many the Inuzuka clan lost in both the Third War and the Kyuubi attack, the population is dwindling, and Inuzuka women are given no option but intra-clan marriages. The pack must keep going. The name must hold out. The techniques must live on. It's a duty that Hiwa should take up with honour and pride, but she's selfish.

Arranged marriages aren't entirely out of the question for her. It was what she had in her last life, after all. And it worked out fine. But then, her interests were in hand; the marriage was designed to satisfy her, on some level, even if it was her parents putting a bandaid over the bullet hole that was her relationship with her family and her culture at that point.

She wants what she lost, dying so early. She wants a loving marriage. She wants to find happiness in whatever relationship she ends up in.

That can never come when the entire thing is built on a foundation of resentment.

"You understand my position, don't you?" Tsume asks.

"I've committed an act of disloyalty towards the clan," Hiwa answers. "You have to punish me for it or you'll look like a weak leader."

"Correct. I'll tell you now, then, that the punishment I've decided on is exile."

Hiwa blinks, opens her mouth to respond, and shuts it again.

_Exile?_

Of all the forms of discipline that could be administered, that's the one that Hiwa hasn't considered, not even for a second. The Inuzuka have only exiled a handful of shinobi in their entire _history_. The clan values loyalty and taking care of their own—this often entails forgiveness, allowing for clan members to make up for their mistakes and transgressions, giving them the chance to earn back the trust of the clan.

"I'm… you're serious?" Hiwa asks. "Exile?"

Tsume shrugs. "The council agreed that you should be given the choice to either annul the marriage yourself and keep your name or be exiled and keep the Shiranui name."

"With all due respect, Tsume," Hiwa says, "that feels a bit extreme."

"Tell me something: what's left for you here?"

For the second time in less than a minute, Hiwa's left speechless. Her gaze falls to her lap, staring at her fingers. She clasps her hands together tight enough that her knuckles turn white.

"If I choose exile, what are the odds that the Nara clan will pursue an annulment of the marriage?" Hiwa asks. "And if they do it, what are the odds that they'll be granted it?"

"Can't say. The Nara are hard to predict, and Shikaku's got his cards close to his chest on this one. Though I can't see Lord Hokage giving it to 'em. He's a petty old man. Gets his rocks off by messing around with the clans, I think." Tsume shrugs. "If all they can claim is that you've got Nara blood in your veins, there's not much there."

Hiwa smothers a wince. Rather than comment on the last line, she says, "So the Inuzuka aren't losing anything by letting me go."

"Not so far as the statistics are concerned, no." Tsume folds her hands. "But you will be missed."

"Then why—"

"That's _exactly_ why. Shocking as it might be, some of us still care about you. And being out of the clan, the elders won't have any control over you anymore. I won't have any control over you. Nobody here to complicate this arrangement for you. And if this doesn't work, you won't immediately fall back into the marriage laws." More forcefully than the last time, Tsume asks again, "What's left for you here?"

It clicks, then, what Tsume is trying to do. She isn't exiling Hiwa for the sake of punishing her, not entirely—Tsume is setting her free.

There have been times where she considered leaving behind the Inuzuka name to avoid this whole situation, but she never wanted to lose the protection it offered. Being a member of a clan has benefits. She has her house, she has people who will help her through hardships, and she has easy access to ninja supplies and services through clan connections.

Leaving that behind was never a part of her plan. Inuzuka were Inuzuka by blood, not by name. Members weren't suddenly discount if they married out. It hasn't happened since the war, but before it, it wasn't uncommon for women to marry outside of the clan and bring their spouses to live with them inside the compound. Once an Inuzuka, always an Inuzuka.

But does she need all of it?

Does she need an empty house that offers nothing but bitter memories? Does she need a safety net when she already has a comfortable safety net in her savings account from her mission work? Does she need a clan name to earn people's respect?

"There's nothing left for me here," Hiwa mumbles. The words are bitter on her tongue.

"I figured as much." Tsume pulls a sheet of paper out from under the table. She puts a pen down on top of it and pushes it towards Hiwa, sending it sliding across the polished mahogany tabletop. "Sign this if you want to make it official."

Hiwa picks up the piece of paper and lets her eyes wander over it. It's a simple form, stating that she is aware of her exiled status and that she has no intention of appealing it to the Hokage or the village councils.

By signing her name on the dotted line she'll lose her home—the only home she's ever known. But through it, she'll gain the key to her cage.

She pinches the pen between her fingers and scribbles out a signature, locking eyes with Tsume as she hands the sheet back.

"That's settled, then," Tsume says. She grins at Hiwa. "Go on. I'd start packing if I were you. You've only got three days before this kicks in and you'll be banned from the compound."

.

.

She sits on the floor of her living room, a picture frame in each of her hands.

In her left, she holds an image from when she was nine, taken during the summer if she recalls correctly. She's there cuddled up against Rei in their backyard with her father watching on a few metres away, a soft grin on his face and his ninken—a bloodhound named Kaoru—sitting beside him. It's one of the last memories she has of her father where he was happy. Before the war. He smiled after the war, but it was a ghost of what it used to be.

She sighs and sets it down, turning to the other picture, an image of her genin team during the war. The time is a bit of a blur to her; her years on the battlefield meld into a giant amalgamation of blood and fighting and fear, a period of her life that she lets rot in the back of her mind where it does the least amount of harm.

She's not sure _exactly _how old she is in the photo. Ten, maybe? Eleven at the oldest. But her flak jacket was spotless in the photo, and her eyes are clear and bright, so she thinks the former might be more accurate. She knows for sure she wasn't any older than eleven, though—Hiro was dead by the time she turned twelve.

Their team was split up, after that, and she spent the rest of her time in Wind Country.

Hiwa gropes at the table for her pack of cigarettes and lights one up. She takes a deep breath, focusing on the burn, and tosses both of the photos into a box.

It's only been a few hours—she's not packing in earnest, yet. She doesn't plan to get on it until somebody is beating down her door in a few days, trying to haul her out of the house. For now, she's just deciding what's even worth taking.

Her clothes. Her ninja gear. And her photographs. She's leaving everything else behind.

Moving furniture and packing up dishes sounds like a pain in the neck, especially considering she only has a few days. She'd rather just buy new stuff once she has a new apartment. She's half tempted to leave the photographs behind, too. Gods know she'd be better off without them.

Something warm and wet presses against her forehead.

"Thanks," Hiwa murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke Rei's hulking muzzle. Rei pads around her and curls up against her back, huffing out a breath—their position is a mirror of that old photo. "Any chance you're gonna help me pack?"

She receives another nudge in response, this time firmer and against her thigh. All of her weight leans against Rei.

"Hey, it was worth a shot."


	4. Chapter Four

_No act of kindness, no_

_matter how small, is ever wasted._

* * *

Hiwa steps out into the dry evening air and scratches off another apartment from her ledger with a streak of red marker.

She's been running around for three hours at this point, browsing through some of the apartments available for rent in the shinobi sections of the village. Her head hurts and her patience is beginning to wear thin, but she has two more she needs to see tonight, then she can go home and take a long, well-deserved nap.

She shoves the paper into her flak jacket pocket, not caring that it crumples and bunches at the rough movement.

Her search isn't going well.

The fact that she has to move into the apartment in a matter of _days_, not _weeks_, is her biggest stumbling block. Right now she has two places that she's giving any consideration and that's it—she isn't all that fond of either of them, really, but the pickings are sparse and beggars can't be choosers.

A ripple of hunger tears through her stomach. Hiwa sighs.

That's her cue that it's time to throw in the towel and head over to Genma's.

Her eyes seek out her watch; it's already a quarter to seven. She groans. She's forty-five minutes late. That still counts as fashionably late, right?

_I don't even know where his house is._

Hiwa pulses her chakra, calling Rei back from wherever she fled to after the third apartment viewing. Rei is at her side in less than a minute.

"We've got a problem," she says. "Can you track Genma from here?"

Rei raises her head into the air to give it a sniff, once, twice, and lowers it with an affirmative bark. Hiwa hops onto her back without hesitation and Rei leaps up onto the rooftops, rocketing through the village.

They're there in five minutes, at most, and as soon as Rei stops Hiwa plants her feet on the ground and heads towards the front door. She looks over her shoulder when Rei makes no move to follow.

"What, you're not coming?"

Rei turns tail and bounds off by way of response. Yeah, she's on her own.

Hiwa makes her way to his door, following the distinctive trail of Genma's scent up two flights of stairs and down a well-lit hallway. She raps on the door once, then twice, and steps back.

Genma opens the door, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt, one hand in his pocket. His hair is hanging around his shoulders, unobscured by the bandana she saw him wear yesterday—the senbon remains in place, though.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." Belatedly, she tacks on, "Sorry I'm late."

"Don't worry about it." He grins and moves aside to let her past. "Come on in. Rai and I already ate, but everything's still out in the kitchen."

"Namiashi's here?" she asks.

"Yeah," Genma says. "I told him about all of this yesterday and he wanted to meet you."

_Fantastic._

"What have you told him so far?"

"Surface details."

"Ah."

"He promised he'd be nice, don't worry."

She laughs but holds her tongue otherwise. It takes more than a bit of attitude to scare her off.

He turns and shuffles down the hall, a hand waving over his shoulder. "Slippers are on the top shelf of the closet."

The urge to smoke chafes against the back of her mind, but she brushes it off. Smoking inside somebody's house without permission is generally poor manners. So, she sets her shoes along the top shelf of the closet and drops her pack of cigarettes onto one of them. She slips on a pair of plain beige slippers and heads in the direction Genma disappeared into.

Genma and Raidou are at the dining room table, their dishes gone, a wave of chatter moving between them that doesn't stop as Hiwa takes a seat beside Genma.

"You know how Kusa nin are," Raidou is saying, his mouth turned down in what's either annoyance or disgust. "There have only been a couple of groups, but they're getting a bit too close to our borders for Lord Hokage to be comfortable."

"Tch." Genma fiddles with his senbon. "Idiots."

"Were you sent out there, Namiashi?" Hiwa asks, easing herself into the conversation.

He blinks and turns to look at her. "Yeah," he says. "And you can just call me Raidou."

"Call me Hiwa, then," she says. "What did Lord Hokage have you doing, if you don't mind?" The 'if you can' went unsaid.

As they talk, Genma gets up and heads into the kitchen.

"I was a part of the border patrol," Raidou answers. "They wanted a bit of muscle kicking around, just in case."

She wracks her brain for what she knows about that situation. Jiraiya had been pretty tight lipped about it, last she spoke to him, since it had nothing to do with her work. But she's managed to catch a bit from other parts of the grapevine. "What part of the border were you at?"

Raidou leans forward, one elbow resting on the table and cupping his chin. "The far northeast, near where their land meets Taki. That's where Lord Hokage said their activity was concentrated."

A plate is set down in front of her.

Hiwa blinks, startled, but Genma doesn't say anything, just sits back down as if he'd never left.

"Oh," she says. "Thank you."

He shrugs. "No biggie. I've been hearing your stomach growl since you got here."

There's a healthy portion of stir-fry on the plate, with dumplings stuck on the side. The smell has her mouth watering—better than anything she can cook, by far.

Hiwa hums, picking up her chopsticks. "Well, I'm glad I waited to eat. Looks incredible."

"You're pretty lucky, Hiwa. Genma's quite the house husband," Raidou says. "He's neat, attentive, _and _he can cook."

Genma spits his senbon at Raidou, and Raidou ducks out of the way.

Hiwa tilts her head, eyes glued on Genma. She's got a dumpling stuck between her chopsticks, and it dips as her attention wavers for a second.

The familiarity in his voice catches her attention, as does the way their eyes meet. The good nature and the easy familiarity that passes between the two of them. The way Raidou went to dodge the senbon before Genma had the chance to spit it, already knowing it was coming. The way Raidou seems to understand Genma's habits and mannerisms so well, as if they've spent a long time in each other's space.

She noticed it yesterday, too, but didn't give it much thought.

But now she sees it and all she can think of is how it reminds her of the energy she sees in old married couples, the way they can be three feet away from each other and still have a way of interacting with each other that's full of intimacy and—

_Oh_.

They've dated. Or, at the very least, had a sexual relationship.

The energy between them isn't one fostered in a purely platonic relationship, even if that's how it appears to be categorized, right now.

Hiwa shakes herself and pops the dumpling into her mouth.

"Yeah," she says once she's swallowed, "I think I scored on this one."

Genma rolls his eyes and Hiwa sees nothing but unease in his posture, from the hunch in his shoulders to the way he's angled himself towards Raidou and away from her.

She wonders what it is. Is he uncomfortable with being complimented, or is it the nature of them? He doesn't seem _embarrassed_. There's no blush or colour in his chest or neck. And he reacted the same when she complimented his appearance, before, though not to this extent.

Hiwa shakes herself. Not wanting to linger where Genma is clearly uncomfortable, she says, "Well, anyways, I think that's pretty interesting, what you were saying about being on the border." She purses her lips. "I'm wondering whether or not we'll be doing some dealings with Taki soon."

Genma's relaxed again with the topic off of him. He rolls a new senbon around in his finger, the one he threw at Raidou stuck in the wall, just underneath the window sill. "How'd you get that?" he asks. He sticks the senbon back in his mouth.

She takes a bite of the stir fry and finds—unsurprisingly—that it tastes as good as it smells. She sorts out her words as she chews. "Taki grows a lot of fair-weather crops, things that we can't grow here because it's too hot, and things that Kusa can't grow because it rains too much, especially in the west with how close they are to Ame. We've always competed with Kusa over who gets the better trade contract with Taki. If Kusa shinobi are around that area, it's possible that they've been sending in ambassadors to try and renegotiate their trade deal, which Konoha would want to know about—it also doesn't hurt if _Taki _is aware that we know.

"Right now, most of the villages are finally at the point of recovering from the Third War, meaning that deals from before, from when they were desperate for supplies, aren't appealing anymore. They're in a position to start trying to bargain. If that's actually what's happening, we want Taki to know that if Kusa gives them an unfavourable deal, they can shaft Kusa and turn more of their business to us. Works for us, too, because it could give _us _the chance to renegotiate. We could try at getting more from them but for a slightly better price, which would still be a win for both sides. Really, the more we get from them, the less we have to worry about getting from some of the more distant countries." She pauses, realizing that she's fallen into rambling. "I could be wrong, though. I'm just speculating."

"Damn," Raidou mutters.

"You're into politics?" Genma asks. He reclines against the back of his chair.

Hiwa tugs at one of her braids and smiles wryly. "You could say that."

"Have you ever considered working in the Strategy Division?" Raidou asks. "You'd do well there."

She takes another bite of her food. "I worked there for a bit after the war."

"What made you leave?"

"Lord Yondaime requested I go back to the field," she answers. "He said that the village couldn't afford to let me sit off the roster, especially not while they were still recovering from the war."

Hindsight allows her to know that being pulled from Strategy was for the best. Her stint there was brief, lasting a couple of months following the war. She needed a break from the fighting, a chance to recollect herself after spending three and a half years of her life out on the battlefield. It was a time meant to give her room to recover. Not that she ever felt like she was, then. She felt more like a record skipping over a scratch in its vinyl, stuck playing the same few bars of music over and over and over.

To this day, she still isn't certain whether Minato pulled her from Strategy for the reasons he claimed, or because she was failing her mental health inspections—perhaps both. It was the best thing for her at the time, though, _that _she knows. She was given a promotion to tokubetsu jonin and missions that pulled her mind into focus; it forced her out of the rut she had spiralled into.

She wishes she had gotten the chance to thank Minato for it.

"Where's your ninken, by the way?"

Hiwa snaps back to reality, and her attention drifts over to Genma. "She ditched me," she says. "Right now's her hunting time, so she's somewhere out in the forests."

"I didn't know ninken ditched their partners," Raidou said. "Or hunted in the forests."

"Rei is a bit of a special case," she says, unable to keep from grinning. "She's only half ninken—the rest of her is wolf spirit, according to her mom."

Genma snorts, while Raidou chokes on his water. "Half wolf spirit? Seriously?"

"Yeah. The mother died in the birthing process, but she claimed that for the entire time she was pregnant. The non-partnered ninken are allowed to roam the forests on the compound as much as they want. Apparently, when the mother was out there one day, she came across a spirit and managed to mate with it. Two months later she popped out a litter of pups. All of them except Rei died before they made it to a week old because they didn't have properly formed circulatory systems—their bodies were too small, and their internal systems weren't properly formed. Rei was the exception. She was _massive_. The mother claimed that she was so big because she was blessed by the spirit."

Raidou scoffs. "That sounds like a load of shit."

"Probably is."

"Did anybody believe her?" Genma asks.

"Not a single person. The vet who oversaw the birth figures that the mother's chakra wasn't circulating through her womb properly," Hiwa tells them. "Rei got all of it while the rest of the pups were starved of it, which is why she's so big." Her grin widens, her lips pulling back. "She definitely is part wolf, though."

The conversation lapses into other topics and once Hiwa finishes eating, they move into the living room.

Raidou and Genma do most of the talking while she sits and listens. It isn't until work talk comes up again that she's pulled back into the conversation.

"What do you do now?" Raidou asks. "Since you're not in Strategy."

"Infiltration, with a side of tracking."

Raidou stares at her for a second. He looks to Genma, who only shrugs.

"Didn't peg me?" she asks.

"Not in the slightest."

"S'okay. That's kind of the point. I do civilian level, mostly. A lot of the people I've networked with are merchants and shop owners, though I've got a decent network in the entertainment businesses in eastern countries."

"I don't think I've ever met an Inuzuka who does infiltration."

"Well, you have now."

"How'd you even get into that?" he asks.

"I was scouted during the kunoichi lessons. I did really well in most of it, so they set me up with a jonin who worked in infiltration once I graduated."

And she did well in her kunoichi lessons because all of it was so familiar to her. Working as a spy for the American government for five years before her death set her up perfectly for it.

Her parents were Indian immigrants who moved to America a few years before she was born. But she was raised bilingual, and she had enough cultural awareness that when she applied for a governmental job a year into her poli-sci degree on a whim, the CIA snapped her up. A foundation, they called it. Perfect to be built up through training.

Her parents weren't thrilled with the idea of her working as a spy. She can still remember the arguments, how they wished she'd just stay in school to finish her degree, go to grad school, and then find a cushy government job with benefits and a steady salary. How torn they were over the thought of their daughter working against the mother country that was still home to them, on some level. How much more complicated her career would make finding a husband for her.

She did it anyway. She's not sure if her parents ever forgave her for it, even though they eventually stopped bringing it up—at least, until she got married. They always said that it was better for her to settle down and have kids. Travelling as much as she did wasn't conducive to motherhood, and what was the point in them having arranged such a good marriage for her if she didn't take full advantage of it?

But she didn't quit, not when her work was so much bigger than her or her family.

Which she's grateful for _now _because the not-so-glamorous world of actual spy work in that life perfectly trained her to slip into infiltration in this life. Learning how to blend into a culture, live in a disguise, read body language, keep a cool head, and work on the fly without causing waves. All of it gave her an invaluable skill set.

"And I guess that's what you did during the war?" Raidou asks.

Hiwa hesitates. "At some points."

"Iwa or Kusa?"

"I was in Kusa a little bit, but I actually spent most of it in Wind Country. I worked in Jiraiya's network."

Genma's eyebrows go up, and Raidou gapes. "Like, the Sannin?"

Over a laugh, she asks, "Is there another one?"

"Probably not, but—come on. He's kind of a big deal. Not a lot of ninja can say they've worked with him." A pause. "Do you still work with him?"

"Unfortunately," Hiwa answers. "I ran a mission through his network during the war, and the connection stuck after that."

"'Unfortunately'? There are ninja who'd kill to work under Jiraiya."

She settles back into the couch with a snort—anybody who can say that probably hasn't ever actually met Jiraiya. "He can be an interesting person to work for."

Minato put her directly under Jiraiya again after he pulled her from Strategy. Much as she thinks that the Sannin's a dirtbag with no self preservation, she recognizes his strength and brilliance for what it is.

She knows that he's a decent guy, under the dirtbag persona. She's known that since the first time she loopholed her way out of killing her target during a mission and he let it slide with a knowing eye. And she had it reinforced when she told him that she couldn't stomach going back to Wind Country for missions after the war and he agreed without kicking up a fuss.

But _wow _can Jiraiya ever be a walking pile of shit when he wants to be.

Raidou eyes her skeptically. "I'll take your word for it."

"I mean, I—" She cuts herself off. She tilts her head, listening, and then takes a whiff of the breeze streaming in through the open window.

"Something wrong?" Genma asks, leaning forward.

"Somebody's about to get a mission," she says.

And ten seconds later, a hawk lands on the sill of the open window.

Genma hauls himself up off of the couch. "I wonder which of us it's for."

"I hope it's one of you," Raidou says. "I've only had a few days, and I slept all the way through one of them."

She knows it's not for her because she never gets her mission by hawk messenger. Either she picks it out for herself from the desk chunin, or Jiraiya has it delivered it to her by an actual ninja, whether he does it himself or has one of his other agents bring it to her.

Genma detaches the scroll, a small thing no bigger than his middle finger. The bird ruffles its feathers and flies away.

He reads the characters inscribed along the side of the scroll and laughs. "Hate to tell you, buddy, but it's not for me or Hiwa."

"Oh, for the love of…" Raidou mutters. "Give it here."

Genma tosses him the scroll. Raidou unfurls it and his eyes skim over the page, muttering a stray word here and there as he goes.

"Anything interesting?" Genma asks, tossing himself over the top of the couch and landing on the cushions beside Hiwa.

"Not sure, yet. No details on here—just says it's a bodyguard mission. But I'm being called for a briefing, then I've got to pack… after I just finished _unpacking_…"

Genma jerks his chin towards the scroll. "Does it say who you're with, at least?"

"No," Raidou says. "Just that it's a mid-length B-rank."

"Sounds like fun," Genma says.

Raidou shoots him a scowl. "You're enjoying this."

"A little, yeah," Genma admits. "I'm used to it being the other way around, with you getting the short missions and my ass being stuck out of the village for Kami knows how long. This is kinda nice."

Raidou grunts and stands up. "Well, laugh it up while you can."

He disappears into the hallway and returns with his shoes and jacket in hand. He slips into both and, rather than take the front door like most people, he launches himself out of the window, soaring towards the rooftops.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"I think he likes you."

Hiwa lifts her head up off the back of the couch to look at Genma. "Yeah?"

He makes a noncommittal noise. She waits to see if he's going to explain himself, but all he says is, "You can smoke in here, too, if you want. I don't care."

"Ah, thank you."

It's tempting, too. The urge hasn't gone since she got here, but she can't be bothered to get up and grab her pack. Twenty steps there and twenty steps back to the couch is about forty steps more than she's willing to take right now. Besides, going without is always a good thing. She can't get used to smoking often—it's not like she can smoke while on most of her missions. It's just one of those nasty habits she always seems to pick back up whenever she's in the village.

He watches her, as if he's waiting for her to light one. "Not going to?"

She shrugs. She sets her arm over her eyes, more than ready to take a nap. "Can't be bothered to grab them."

She hears the couch creak and footsteps walk down the hall, somebody rummage through the closet, and footsteps again. Something drops onto her chest. Her arm drops, and she stares down at the little pack of death sticks, looking so innocuous.

"Oh," she says. "Thanks."

Genma hums, then picks up a book from his living room table.

She puts a cigarette between her lips and lights it, draws in a breath, sighs out smoke.

"So?" he prompts.

"Yeah?"

"Hear anything from either of the clans yet?" he asks. "I'm sure they've heard, by this point. Konoha's gossip network is a beast unto itself."

She hesitates, the cigarette pinched between her fingers. He's watching her again. "Something like that," she says.

It's her instinct, more than anything else, that has her dodging the question. There isn't any _logical _reason for her to leave it out—the opposite, in fact. Despite what Tsume said, Hiwa isn't convinced that the Nara won't pursue an annulment. Like other shinobi clans, the Nara are experiencing population dips, and having a woman to marry into the family that already has Nara blood in her, even without the name, would be beneficial to them. She doubts they'd go to the ends of the earth for it, as she's not worth the trouble, she just thinks that they'll _try_.

If she's right in her suspicions and they do try, Genma will be swept up into this mess right along with her. She has to remember that she isn't the only person involved, anymore. After how selfless he's been, what he's done for her, the last thing he deserves is to have her throw it back in his face by being selfish.

The least he deserves from her at this point is forthright honesty.

"The Inuzuka clan are exiling me."

In the silence of the room, she hears the drop in his heart beat and the subsequent spike. "They're _exiling _you?" he asks.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Hiwa says.

Genma pulls himself upright and shifts, crossing his legs underneath him, and gestures her on with one hand while the other cradles his chin. She can't read his emotions from the expression on his face, but she can see the hint of tension threading his posture that's in contention with the general laxness of his sitting position.

She doesn't turn to face him. She continues to stare up at the ceiling, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Tsume had to administer some punishment. Going against the interests of the clan and defying the current regulations on marriage is an act of disloyalty," she explains. "If she let me get away with it then she'd look weak in front of the clan and make other clan women think that they can avoid an arranged marriage."

"Wait," he says. "The entire _clan_ is undergoing arranged marriages right now?"

"Not quite," she answers. "Just women. Men are allowed to marry out, but women are required to stay in the clan and keep the clan name."

"That's stupid."

"Agreed," she says. "But it's not without reason. The population took two huge hits from the Third War and the Kyuubi attack. The vast majority of Inuzuka are either front line fighters or bounty hunters."

"So even if the Inuzuka weren't fighting with the Nara for your marriage," Genma says, "you would've been damned?"

"Probably," she says. "I mean, I would've had the chance to apply for an exemption, but…" She makes a halfhearted, dismal gesture.

"They wouldn't have granted it."

"There was a low chance of it." She lets out a harsh breath. "I mean, they might have… but it would have depended on whether Tsume could convince the elders. If she decided to take my side. I think she might have but…" Hiwa shakes her head.

Tsume has always been kind to Hiwa.

When Hiwa's world went to shit after her father's death, Tsume was the one who took care of the paperwork so Hiwa wouldn't have to. She had neighbors checking in with her, making sure she was keeping clean and eating regularly. She stopped in herself to keep Hiwa company when she could.

But Tsume is still the one who okayed this policy. The elders might have proposed it, and pushed for it, but Tsume had the ultimate okay. She's taken efforts to enforce it, regardless of preferences, be it sexual identity or desire to even be married in the first place.

It's hard for Hiwa to say one way or another whether Tsume would have given her the exemption. Maybe Tsume would have, knowing how strongly Hiwa felt about being thrown into a marriage designed only for procreation. But maybe she would have looked Hiwa in the eye and dressed her down for thinking she was some kind of special case among the throng of Inuzuka women called to do their duty.

Tsume is unpredictable, like that. As regular as a hurricane. You can predict the path, sometimes, but just as often she'll veer last minute and create havoc where you hadn't prepared for her to land.

And that's exactly why Hiwa did what she did. At least if Hurricane Tsume ripped her world to shreds, she could say that she battened down the hatches and created a ten-foot-tall wall of sandbags around her house to hold the flooding at bay.

At the end of the day, she'd like to think Tsume respects that sentiment—that stubborn need to go down swinging is purely Inuzuka, after all.

Genma nods, turning the senbon over his lip. "Okay, so… why exile you?"

"I think the elders were planning on pursuing an annulment no matter what punishment Tsume gave me. She never said either way, though. She just gave me the choice between annulling the marriage myself and being exiled. And if I'm exiled, the elders don't have a say because they have no authority over me anymore."

"So you chose exile."

"Yep." She pulls her legs in, letting one arm drape over her knees. "That's why I was late, by the way. I was looking at apartments to move into, 'cause I only get a few days before the exile kicks in."

"A few days? That's it?"

"Could be worse—they could have given me no days."

He nods. His gaze is distant. "Have you found anything?"

"Maybe. Whatever I get is just temporary, someplace to go for a few weeks until I find somewhere Rei and I actually like."

"You can stay here, you know."

She sits up, her eyebrows pulling together. "You don't mind?"

Genma runs his fingers through his hair and shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time," he tells her. "There's enough room. I converted the spare room into a makeshift bedroom when I first moved in, 'cause my place is a popular crash site after nights at the bar. There's no closet, or anything like that, and it's kind of cramped, but that won't be an issue if it's just temporary."

"You honestly don't mind?"

"It's not a big deal," he says. "As long as you don't make a mess, I really couldn't care less about doing it."

She pulls the cigarette out of her mouth. It sits in her hand, and a lazy trail of smoke meanders off the end. "Why?"

It's the one question that she's held in the back of her mind since yesterday. The question of _why is he doing this_?

He had no reason to hear her out in the first place. He had no reason to marry her. He had no reason to invite her over for dinner. He has no reason to let her stay in his house.

He could have said no to this whole arrangement, or he could have gone through with the marriage and then washed his hands of her. There isn't any discernible reason for why he's doing everything that he is; they've known each other for a couple of days, and she would hesitate to say that she actually _knows_ him.

She doesn't _understand_, and that's a feeling that's been foreign to her for so long.

Genma stands up and stretches like a cat, his arms above his head. She hears his spine pop and crack. When he looks at her again, the expression on his face is an odd mixture of amusement and pity. "Why not?" he asks.

He goes off into the apartment, out of her line of sight.

_It's that simple to him_, she thinks. _It's that black and white._

She wants to say he's naive but she knows better—harmless as he may look and act, she knows the eyes of a veteran when she sees them.

Hiwa cut herself off after the war, and then shut down completely after the Kyuubi attack. She had nothing left. And what's the point in trying to rebuild something that's inevitably going to fall down again? But she supposes that, in turn, grief and trauma could do the opposite. It's no secret that those who are the most willing to die for a comrade are also those who have failed to do so in the past, and seen the consequences of their actions.

She can't imagine a worse feeling than being appointed to guard somebody who died anyways, especially if she'd grown to care about them.

Genma reenters, his arms full of linens. "If you wanna get it set up for yourself while you're here, be my guest."

"Thanks," she says. She pulls herself up and takes the sheets from him.

"No problem," he answers. "It's the first door on your right down the hallway, bathroom's at the end, and my room's on the left. I'll be in the kitchen if you have any issues."

She nods and heads over to the room he indicated. If all goes well, she won't be occupying for long—she's infringed on his hospitality enough as it is.


	5. Chapter Five

.

* * *

_Life moves on,_

_and so should we._

* * *

"Isn't this place a bit small?"

Hiwa runs a hand across the sturdy maple table that sits in the living room and eyes up the plush cream-coloured couches that line the sides of the living room. "Maybe, but it's affordable," she answers over her shoulder. "The neighbourhood is good, too."

"What about Rei?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Where exactly is she going to fit in here?" Genma asks. He sweeps his gaze over the room, the pint-sized kitchen and the nonexistent dining room, the bedroom that's separated by no more than a partial wall. "There's no room for a ninken that big."

Hiwa walks over to the kitchen. "She's not going to have to fit in here. She'll just sleep out around the village and the forest." She twists the knob on the sink and it squeaks a bit, and the water takes a bit longer to get hot than she'd like.

"Really?"

"She prefers it. She likes room to breathe and most places are too small for her, no matter what. Even at our house in the compound, she liked to leave halfway through the night and go run around."

She reaches up to open the cabinet set above the sink and finds the door is a bit loose. Not so much that she's scared it might fall off, at least. Though she'll probably have to replace them within five years. Which is a pain. A minor one, compared to how much else is nice about this place, but a pain nonetheless.

"That's…"

The storage is functional.

Hiwa pauses. She thinks back on the fact that she only has five cardboard boxes sitting around to fit her stuff and she doesn't actually plan to fill all of them, and that she lives alone. Maybe her idea of functional storage doesn't quite line up with most people's.

"Unusual for a ninken," she finishes when Genma doesn't. "Yeah. She comes if I call her, and she does hang around me a lot during the day. But evenings are when she likes to have some independence. She's not one for confinement. She's just a bit… wild."

"Fitting."

Hiwa leans back around the open cabinet door. "You think?"

"Sure," he says.

Hiwa nods to herself. She closes the cabinet, runs a hand over the gnarled mahogany wood. The place is surprisingly modern given how old the rest of the building and neighbourhood is. These apartments were some of the first built in the village, going by what the newspaper advertisement said, but she doesn't see a hint of that anywhere in the room, not even the floor plan.

That it's in a shinobi neighbourhood helps its case. There won't be any intrusive neighbours, though she doesn't doubt that she'll have a fair few eccentric ones.

It's her frontrunner at the moment.

Hiwa stretches her arms above her head. "I think I'm done here." She pauses. "I think I'm done for the day, actually."

"Cool," Genma says. He bobs his head and heads for the door. "Where are you off to now?"

"A nap would be ideal," she says. She scratches her head. "But I've got to grab my stuff from the compound. They're sending cleaners in tomorrow to get it ready for the next family moving in, and I want all my stuff out before that."

She has, well. All of her packing to do. She likes to tell herself that if she hadn't stayed with Genma instead of sleeping alone in a house that's not hers anymore (_and probably hasn't been for a while_, a little voice in the back of her head adds) she would have done it yesterday.

"Want any help with that?"

Does she want help?

She's got to empty her closet.

What few of her father's belongings that Hiwa has left remain untouched in his room. A part of her is tempted to leave them behind with the furniture, for the sake of a clean-cut and the hope of moving on, but she doubts she could ever _really _go through with the idea.

Her bookshelf is full. She'll have to package that up with care because she'd hate to get to her new place and find everything damaged. It might be worth it to go out and get a scroll for them for the sake of eliminating any chance that there'll be damage to her books and because she can just toss them in without having to line them up neatly to fit them in a box.

She frowns.

Scrolls leave no room for organization, though. Which means she'll have to reorganize them when she pulls them back out. Probably.

Well, that's a problem for future Hiwa. She'd rather save time for present Hiwa.

Hiwa realizes that Genma asked her something almost half a minute ago and reaches for an answer. "If you want," she says. Brushing him off feels rude, even though she probably doesn't need the help. "I think I need to hunt down a decently priced storage scroll for some of my books, though."

He grins. "Sounds fun; lead the way."

.

.

"Pink."

Hiwa turns to look at Genma. He has a dress in his hand, a light pink sundress with a gold-embossed, floral print that winds along the front of it.

"Yeah," she says.

"I never thought you were the pink type," he says. "Or the dress type." He flicks through some of the other hangers in her closet. "Looks like I was way off on that one."

"Really?"

"I wasn't sure if you owned anything other than your jonin blues."

"Do you?" she throws back.

Genma considers, looks down at his clothes. "Fair point."

Hiwa looks past Genma, to her closet. Some of her clothes are five or six years old, from before she left for the war; she doubts half the stuff in there even fits her anymore. She's been meaning to purge her clothes for months, now, but has just never found the time—or the energy. Which is why she's doing it now.

She pulls the dress from his hands and runs her hand over the fabric. She remembers wearing this dress on one of her first infiltration missions with Hitomi. Hitomi had laughed, the sound crystal clear like the ring of a bell echoing across a silent city, and said that pink was Hiwa's colour. Hiwa started to wear it more often after that.

She smiles, small and crooked. "Honestly, you weren't that wrong," she says. She drops it into the steadily filling donation box. "Pink hasn't been my colour for a few years. Though I'm still a dress kind of girl. They're comfy and freeing."

Genma scoffs.

Hiwa decides that once she settles into her new apartment, she needs to go shopping.

.

.

"I've never even heard of half of these authors," Genma says.

Hiwa looks up from where she was rifling through her bedside table for miscellaneous treasures and sees him at the bookshelf. He runs his hands over the book bindings like a pianist across the keys of a keyboard.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"It's pretty cool," he says. "This is a pretty impressive book collection."

"I've been all around. Got some pretty good finds."

She has a habit of buying books anytime she's out on a mission—with so much downtime, reading is one of the things that keep her sane. Literature doesn't circulate this world like her old one, even though it lacks the language barrier that existed with all the different countries since everybody seems to speak and write in Japanese in the Elemental Nations. Books she finds in Wind Country might show up on the southwestern outskirts of Fire Country, but that's a rarity. Daimyo aren't inclined to let their literature run wild. They're stingy with it like ninja are with information—each a recognition of non-monetary commodities.

It makes her more inclined to hoard whatever she can find whenever she finds it. There are some gems out there and she thinks it's a damn shame that rich nobles are so stingy.

"You much of a reader?" she asks.

"When I have time. Not as much a couple of years ago, but I've been picking it back up over the last few months."

"Well, feel free to shop my stash. There's plenty of stuff there that you won't be able to find anywhere else."

He grins at her. "I'll definitely take you up on that one."

.

.

Genma sits back on his haunches and watches her stare down at a couple of photographs on the other side of her bedroom. She hasn't moved in at least two or three minutes, kneeled in front of the box with her back to him.

He can't see one of them very well. He thinks he sees a tree, but most of the picture is blocked by her back from this angle. The other, though, he has a clear view of. Three young kids with hitai-ates strapped to their foreheads. They're posed in front of a woman who looks like she's in her early twenties, if even that. Two boys, one with black hair and the other with green hair. And between them, a girl with twin braids so long that they hang outside of the frame and eyes that somehow manage to seem soft even as they're so dark they're almost black, a wild grin on her face. They're in what Genma instantly recognizes as a camp from the frontlines during the Third War. They all look the same—uniform black tents stretched out in the background, grey skies and rain, and smoke.

His gut does something weird at the sight of it when he remembers how she'd reacted the last time her genin teammate came up. He should have minded his own business and not looked.

Genma turns back to his task of dropping all of her books into the storage scroll, ready to push it out of his mind, when Hiwa huffs out a laugh and says, "Just ask."

He looks over his shoulder. She's turned to face him, a tired smile on her face. "I know you're curious," she says. "I can smell it."

The words stick in his throat and Genma bites down hard on his senbon.

Hiwa seems to take pity on him, as when he doesn't respond she crosses the room to hand the photo to him.

Genma holds the frame like it's made of glass. "They're your genin team?" he finally asks.

"Yeah." She taps her finger over the green-haired boy and says, "Hiro," then taps on the black-haired one, "and Shinji. And then Hitomi, our sensei."

"Cute photo."

"Thanks."

Hiwa settles down on the floor, cross-legged. Genma joins her.

"Hitomi would always tell us that we were lucky we were cute, 'cause we gave her such a hard time. Shinji was kind of like a kid on crack. He bounced off the walls, talked a mile-a-minute, and didn't have an off button or a filter. Hiro was like his exact opposite—I wondered if he was secretly an Aburame, sometimes, 'cause he barely spoke, but when he did there was like, no hint of social skills. He wouldn't know tact if it shoved a kunai up his butt. But he was a brilliant taijutsu user. Had his special brand of strategy that made him hard to predict and spar against, and I swore he had like, fifty different styles shoved into his head and no bones in his body from how he moved sometimes."

Fond, soft, and spoken in past tense.

Genma hands the photo back to her. "Sounds a lot like Gai. Maybe it's just a taijutsu specialist thing."

She takes it and sets it in the gap between her thighs, staring down at it. "Maybe. Though I think Gai and Shinji would have gotten along better than Gai and Hiro. Shinji was a special kid. And in the way that moms use the word special to talk about their kids when it's just a nicer way of calling them weird. He used to show up an hour early every day for training and set up traps for Hitomi in the training grounds."

"Did they ever work?"

Hiwa's smile falters, and she shakes her head. "I'm not sure," she says. "Not that I know of. But I wasn't really ever at training to see it."

His eyes flick over her face. He finds he has no response, and from the way she takes the photo from him, resigned and subdued, she doesn't expect him to have one.

He wishes he did, though, because he knows this pain. He knows how it hurts when scars twinge before the rain. And he can recognize that she was there, feeling that, even before he poked the wound—that seeing the photo alone was what brought it on, not necessarily them talking about it. But damn if he doesn't feel guilty for prolonging it.

The moment breaks.

Hiwa gets back up and sets both of the photos in the box. Genma goes back to placing all of her books into storage scrolls. The silence between them is more on the awkward side than not.

And Genma tries to decide if the fact that he knows her better now was worth dredging up old memories. He feels even worse about it all when he finds that despite what he wants to tell himself, his answer is 'yes'.

.

.

Hiwa catches the smell of ink and fresh linen drifting in through the open window and mutters under her breath, "Oh, great."

Genma looks up from his noodles, one eyebrow raised.

They're holed up in her living room with dinner from one of the food stalls stationed along the road outside of the compound. It's decent. The food was cheap, and Hiwa couldn't be bothered to walk the extra fifteen minutes to get into the heart of the village where the good food was. So she settled with her usual from the ramen stand and encouraged Genma to get the same—the stand only had three decent bowls on a menu of twenty, and her usual, the shrimp ramen, was far and away the best of them.

Hiwa waves her chopsticks around. "Wait for it," she says.

Wary, Genma takes another bite of his noodles, his gaze drifting around the room. Hiwa sets her bowl down on the dining table and counts down in her head.

_3._

_2._

_1_—

Jiraiya vaults through the window in a flurry of smoke and leaves. Genma goes stock-still. He might have fooled her into thinking that he hadn't been startled if not for the soft snap Hiwa heard, and the crack she can see in his chopsticks.

"Hey, sweets," Jiraiya says. He brushes leaves off his shoulders and winks at her. "Got a B-rank mission for you and your hubby."

Hiwa leans back into the couch, arms crossed over her chest. "Can this wait until after dinner?"

Softly, Genma says, "Hubby?"

She gives him an apologetic grimace.

"'Fraid not," Jiraiya says. "You're leaving in an hour before the sun can do down."

"I can't leave in an _hour_."

Jiraiya clucks his tongue. "Sorry, not sure I heard that right. Was that whining?"

"I'm being kicked out of my house tomorrow morning. I don't have time to move my stuff out of here, unpack it, and then reload it back into a mission pack. I can't do that in the—what, forty-five minutes?—I'd have left after the briefing."

"Heard 'bout it, dealt with it. One of my gals will stop by. Anything you have boxed up will be moved to your new address. And if you're real nice to me, I'll make sure she leaves a steaming pile of shit in the living room here for the Inuzuka cleaners to deal with tomorrow."

She doesn't ask how he found out about this mess, or how he knows her new address because she's long since learned that questioning how Jiraiya knows anything is about as worthwhile as smacking her head against a brick wall. Might make her feel better in the short-term, but will leave her with nothing but a headache in the long-term.

"I don't get the new apartment for another week and a half. I'll be staying at Genma's, for right now."

Jiraiya waggles his eyebrows. "Sleeping together, eh?"

To her great annoyance, Genma smirks.

"Don't encourage him," she says, tossing one of her chopsticks at him.

"And a couple spat, too?" Jiraiya asks. "This's good. I was a bit worried, you know, but you two have some good chemistry. You'll have no problem playing at being newlyweds."

Hiwa sighs. She looks skyward—she feels like she's surrounded by a couple of toddlers. "We haven't agreed to the mission, yet."

"But you will."

"Allow me to reroute you back to the problem at hand. I _have _to move tonight. If we can leave tomorrow morning, sure. But I can't leave tonight."

"And like I was saying," Jiraiya says, an undercurrent of steel in his tone, the one that reminds her that he is, for all intents and purposes, her commanding officer, "you can and you will. My agent will move the stuff to Shiranui's, if that's the case. That's semantics."

"Fine. Alright. But just—first of all, no shit on the floors. Seriously, that's disgusting and I know you're not kidding about that," Hiwa says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "And second of all, I want it in _my _apartment by the time we get back."

"Is this bargaining?" Jiraiya asks.

"Yes."

He nods slowly. "I can respect that. Fine. She'll pick it up from here, drop it at Shiranui's, then put it into your new place when it's yours. Deal?"

"Deal." She eyes him. "Why such short notice, anyways? This is kind of a, uh. Not cool move. Even for you."

"I resent that."

"You're welcome to."

"Hey. I bargained with you. I let you have your way, a bit. That's what parenting books always say about dealing with rebellious teenage brats—sometimes you gotta compromise."

"You read parenting books?"

Jiraiya contemplates that and pulls a face. "Fine, you win. We had a last-minute bit of information that changed the ideal cover for the mission. We thought a woman going in as an entertainer was going to work best, but now it turns out a young, attractive pair of newlyweds is probably going to be the better option. And what do you know, how wonderful, because I have _you two _at my disposal."

"What was the information change?" she asks.

Jiraiya sighs, the way he always does when Hiwa asks him a question he was hoping she wouldn't. "It got leaked to the target that we have our eye on them."

"A leak? In _your _network?"

"_No_, not in _my _network," he says, his voice raised a pitch to try and mock her on.

Hiwa snorts.

"Intelligence Division had it. It was passed on to me this morning. We're rushing it because as far as they know, the mission is still in its early stages. They won't expect anybody for another week or two. And while you head out, we're going to keep the preparation for the original mission going, just in case the leak hasn't been plugged. This way, guaranteed you'll get a few days to work without them looking too closely at you."

Genma sets his bowl down and clears his throat. He looks between the two of them and raises his hand like a kid in class who isn't sure of their question but worked up the nerve to ask it anyway.

Jiraiya points at him. "Yes, tall, dark, and handsome?"

"No disrespect meant, here—"

"None taken."

"—but I don't think I'm at your disposal like Hiwa is."

Jiraiya's grin grows sharp. "Lord Hokage gave me his blessing, here, so you kind of are."

Hiwa knits her eyebrows together, her lips pursed. That's not a good sign. A mission where the enemy knows your coming is bad enough—but this? If Hiruzen's involved, this is a step above what Jiraiya normally gives her. Jiraiya runs his network and doles out missions through it at his discretion. He's as good as it comes, and Hiruzen generally sees no reason to micromanage when his attention is better spent on other things.

"What's going on?" she asks, her tone devoid of any previous emotions.

Genma stiffens in her peripheral.

Jiraiya, too, seems to sober. "We've got some concerns with a hot springs resort that sits right at the border between Grass Country and Fire Country. It's a bit of a tourist trap. Stationed right by beautiful scenery, rural peace and quiet, all that, and it attracts a lot of couples on their honeymoon."

"On which side?"

"Ours. But it's only a few kilometres from the border crossing, so a lot of Grass civilians pass through and stay there, as well."

She turns the information over in her head, and the infiltrationist in her has her asking, "Just civilians?"

"See, this is why I love giving you missions, despite the attitude."

Hiwa rolls her eyes.

"It seems like the owner of the hot springs has been helping to smuggle Kusa ninja through the borders," Jiraiya says. "We think he's been sending them with a reference letter to help expedite them through the border process, and then gives them cover while they do their work around Fire Country."

"Why not just stop allowing people with his reference letters through?" Genma asks.

"Economics," Hiwa says. Her lips twist down. "Tourist attractions like hot springs are a huge part of Fire Country's economy. Fire Country is widely known as the most civilian friendly place to go, and we've capitalized. A huge chunk of our income—more than any ninja would ever want to admit—is brought in by our tourism. It's too big of an asset to risk alienating if the hunch is wrong, especially if any villages around the hot springs benefit from the increased foot traffic."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner," Jiraiya says. "Among other things, the hot spring resort there is what keeps alive a farming village nearby, who we get a decent amount of wheat from. It's in our best interest to preserve the economic boost the resort provides as much as we can."

"So, what?" Hiwa asks. "Get in, investigate, get out? All without letting the enemy—who will be _expecting _spies, and might be Kusa ninja to boot—get us first."

"Almost. All of that, but you'll also need to clean out any rats you find." He grins. "And try to have a bit of fun."

Hiwa narrows her eyes. "Jiraiya."

"Clean parameters for you," he says. "Pretty boy is the one who's there to get his hands dirty if need be."

She stiffens, ready for a fight, but the way Jiraiya holds her gaze has her backing down almost immediately. Not because she's cowed—Jiraiya hasn't intimidated her for years. Hiwa just knows a lost fight when she sees one.

"This have anything to do with increased Kusa activity we've been seeing on our borders?" she asks. "If you're sending me on this, I don't want to go in blind."

And she wants to know that it's worth it.

She can feel Genma's gaze burning into the side of her head, even as hers stays locked right on Jiraiya.

"It does."

Her shoulders droop, and she drops back onto the couch, sighing. "Fine. I'll do it."

She sees Genma shrug in her peripheral. "I'm down."

"Wonderful."

"But I'm calling in another favour," she says.

"Shoot," Jiraiya says.

"If I gave your 'gal' some money, would she furnish my apartment, too?"

Jiraiya squints at her. "Are you serious?"

Hiwa meets his eye dead on.

He actually looks offended at the question, his nose scrunched in disgust and a hint of a sneer on his lips. "Why would you—"

"I don't want to come back after three weeks out of the village to an empty house," she says.

And she hates furniture shopping. Does anybody like it? Doubtful. If she can foist it off on somebody else, she's not going to pass up this chance.

"You're sitting here, asking me to task one of my personal agents—and this is a jonin I'm sending, mind you, 'cause I take your privacy seriously so I'm not just getting some genin team brats to do it dirt cheap—to do your shopping. And this is somebody who I'm already giving some gopher work, as it is."

She shrugs. "Yeah."

"Don't you care about how it looks?" Genma asks.

"No," she says. "Not really."

Jiraiya scoffs. "You know what? Sure. Whatever. Leave enough cash on top of the boxes and I'll set her loose. But if she doesn't leave any money behind and loosens the screws on her way out, don't come crying to me."

"Deal."

He looks between the two of them. He pulls a scroll from his coat and tosses it at Hiwa. "One hour, remember?"

"Got it."

And with that, Jiraiya throws himself out of the same window he came in through.

Genma stares at the settling smoke and leaves. "Interesting," he says. He nods. "I see what you mean about him."

Hiwa laughs. "That was tame."

"Huh. Yikes." He hauls himself off the couch. "I guess I need to go and get my supplies together."

She stares at the boxes stacked beside the couch, the ones she just spent so much time putting together and will now have to take apart again. She sighs. What a pain. "Yeah."

"Meet at the gates in an hour?"

"Sounds like a plan."


	6. Chapter Six

_Blessed are they who expect nothing_

_for they will be pleasantly surprised._

* * *

An hour and a half later, Hiwa turns up at the village gates.

Genma's sidled up to the guard booth. One of his hands rests in his pocket, and his hip is leaned up against the side of it as he chats with the guards. It's firmly the evening, now. Nearly seven o'clock. Past this point, only ninja are granted access in and out of the village, so the area is barren except for her, Genma, the gate guards, and a few stragglers.

The stragglers, she realizes as she grows closer, Rei trotting along at her side, is a group of genin with their jonin sensei, huddled about twenty feet in front of the gates. From their haggard looks, with dirt caked on their clothes and the way their shoulders droop, she's guessing they're just coming back from a mission. She vaguely recognizes the man from around the village. He's not much older than her, she doesn't think. Probably around Genma's age.

She knows right away when one of the kids takes notice of her—or, rather, of _Rei_, from how his bright green eyes go as wide as saucers.

He breathes out, "Holy shit, _holy shit_" and then the genin turns to his teammate. Two more sets of eyes land on her and Rei.

The jonin rolls his eyes and lazily waves towards Hiwa. She waves right back, walking past them. Rei barks and two of the kids jump out of their skin, and the third goes as still as a statue and squeaks. She hears them tittering as soon as she's a few steps past them, and she grins, chuckling.

As she strolls into earshot, Genma asks, "Scaring the kids?"

"Always." She jerks her head towards the booth. "We good to go?"

Genma tilts his head and slants his gaze towards one of the guards. "Izumo?"

A kid pops his head out of the window. She can't see much of his face through the veil of chocolate brown bangs that covers most of the right side of it, but he looks nice enough.

He fixes his visible eye on her. It's a dark brown, like the colour of tree bark. "Probably? I mean, I need to see her ID and the mission scroll, but then yeah, the rest of the paperwork is ready." His eye narrows. "Since we've had plenty of time to do it, and all."

Hiwa hums. "Sorry, sorry. Got distracted at home."

"Last minute packing?" Genma asks.

"Post-dinner nap. Freak accident. I tripped and fell onto my bed, and next thing I knew, I woke up and I was running late."

Genma snorts, and from inside the booth, she hears another voice say, "Relatable."

The source of the voice is hidden by the two-way glass most of the booth is built from. She can't see inside the booth from where she stands, leaving most of it hidden from prying eyes, though she assumes the kid is sitting ten feet away from the window. It's a decently sized thing, probably close to fifteen square feet.

She's been in those booths. She knows what they're like. Filing cabinets for the paperwork, a desk to do it at, more emergency medical supplies than she ever knew what to do with, and a nook to stash snacks and books inside for when things get boring.

She's guessing that the other person is sitting at the desk, which is always in the corner next to the window, completely hidden from the people walking past the booth.

Izumo turns his head to the side, right where Hiwa thought he would, and snaps, "Cut it _out_, Kotetsu."

"What?" comes Kotetsu's indignant reply. "It is!"

Hiwa leans her elbow onto the booth. "That's the spirit," she says. "Napping after your meals is an important part of digestion, anyways."

Izumo makes a face and stares at Genma, who shrugs in response to whatever question that face was supposed to pose.

Hiwa raises an eyebrow. "Is this a personal attack?"

Izumo goes beet red and he shakes his head.

"You'll get it when you're older," she says.

His voice has the timbre of puberty to it—he's too young. Once his voice drops and he starts to grow stubble, only then will he be old enough to truly understand the value of a good nap.

Kotetsu shoves Izumo aside and Kotetsu, the superior of the boys, peeks out to look at her. "Yo."

Hiwa does a two-fingered wave at him. "Hi."

"Cool ninken."

Rei barks, and Kotetsu's eyes widen. "_Whoa_."

Hiwa grins. "She said 'thanks'."

Kotetsu opens his mouth to say something else, but Izumo side-checks Kotetsu away first. She hears a crash, followed by a whine and a flurry of swear words.

"Scroll, ID," Izumo says, his hand held out.

Hiwa passes both of them over to him and waits for the reaction. From the twitch of his lip, Genma's smothering a grin.

Izumo looks through the scroll first. His eyes glance over it, not really reading it, she doesn't think, but skimming. Satisfied, he rolls it back up and sets it aside. Now comes the ID. His gaze skates down it, but she watches his eyes widen, and refocus along the top, and his mouth opens. His head jerks up and he looks between Hiwa and Genma.

"Problem?" Genma asks.

"Shiranui... Hiwa?"

"That's me," she says.

"_What_?" is the strangled yelp that comes from inside the booth.

"I, uh. Didn't know you had a sister, Genma."

Genma grins. "I don't."

"Wait, then—"

Kotetsu fumbles his way back into view. He slams his hands down on the booth window's ledge. "You're _married_?"

"Maybe."

"Wait so it's _not _just a dumb rumor—"

"You know," Hiwa says, looking down at her watch, "we're running late as it is. We should probably get a move on, if everything's fine."

Mechanically, Izumo holds out her ID and the scroll. Hiwa takes them back with a nod and a smile.

"What? No, Izumo, you can't—"

Izumo looks at Kotetsu with what Hiwa can only describe as a dead-eyed fish stare, and Kotetsu sputters. He turns his attention back to her and Genma. Monotone, he says, "Have a good mission."

Genma salutes him. "Thanks, man."

And with that, they head off.

Rei immediately shoots off ahead of them to run scout, while she and Genma meander their way through the first stretch of their trip.

It's a familiar path. Hashirama trees tower on either side of the well-worn dirt road. Tire tracks and footprints mark the dirt, and the two of them kick up dust as they walk along it, leaving their own muddled trail.

It's a nice night. Cooler than the rest of the week, but not _cold_. They're in the last week of August, now—summer's on its way out. The world around them is quiet and peaceful. The perfect night to leave for a mission, even if it's the last thing Hiwa wants to be doing right now.

"So that's going to be spread around the village by the time we get back, right?" she asks after they've walked for a few minutes.

"Easy. Honestly, I'm surprised it's not everywhere already."

Genma stops walking. Hiwa stops, too, and looks over her shoulder at him.

"Are you alright with that?" he asks.

"Sure," she says. "Was never meant to be a secret, remember?" She hesitates. "Are… you okay with it?"

"Fine."

"Okay." She nods. "Yeah, good."

"Good."

They turn away from each other and head off in silence.

.

.

A day later, Hiwa and Genma find themselves camped another hour from the resort.

A fire roars in front of them. Hiwa leans back against Rei, who curled up by the fire and fell asleep as soon as Hiwa called her back from running perimeter. They made good time, all things considered.

The camp is temporary. Just a few hours to eat their dinner (which Rei was kind enough to bring back), work out a gameplan away from any prying eyes, suss out the details of the situation, and catch their breath. They're going to break it once the sun starts to dip below the horizon, timing it so that they'll hit the resort just as night falls and it won't be suspicious for them to head right to their room without actually _doing _anything at the resort.

Hiwa pulls her cigarette from her mouth and asks, "How often do you do infiltration?"

Genma looks up from the skewer of rabbit meat in his hand. He tears off a chunk and pops it in his mouth. "A decent amount of my missions are combo assassination infiltration." He gives her a crooked grin from where he's laid out over his bedroll, one elbow propped up to hold his head. If she looks closely, she can see a spark of self-deprecation in it. "But never at the civilian level, like this. I was always sent into the hidden villages."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't do a lot of civilian assassinations, period."

She puffs out a breath of smoke, thinking. "Does that mean you're more of a bounty hunter, then?"

"If you wanna think about it like that, sure. But it's more coincidental that most of my targets have bounties on them than something I outright go for."

"Noted."

He sits up and settles into a cross-legged position. "Anything I should watch for?"

"Honestly?" she says. "The watching is my job. I'm looking to you to be the sort of last line of defense, if things go sideways, because combat isn't my strong suit." An idea hits her. "Though…"

Genma looks at her warily.

"How do you feel about seducing some wives for information?" She hesitates, her thumb tapping against the cigarette. Bits of fire-scorched paper drift to the ground. "Or, husbands? I mean, I won't—"

"It's fine, I can do both," he says, waving his hand. "But… seriously? That seems like it'll put a lot of attention on us when we kind of want to be doing the exact opposite."

"Common misconception," she says. "When you deal with ninja, blending in too well is as much a giveaway as anything. Having a bit of drama and interest throws them off your tail for… well, exactly what you thought. If you stand out they're actually less likely to look closely because it seems too obvious of a blunder for any ninja to make. As long as you stand out the right way, at least."

Genma nods, and she isn't sure he actually believes her, but he still says, "Makes its own kind of sense."

"Trust me," she says. "I promise, it'll go well."

He hesitates.

"I trust you," he answers.

Her heart slides into her throat for a second at the amount of conviction in his voice. She clears it.

"Good," she says, and she's annoyed at the breathiness of it. She clears her throat again. "Then let's talk disguises, 'cause we're not henging for this one."

"For a three-week long cover?"

She eyes him. "How long are most of your covers?"

"A week?"

"Holding a henge for a week isn't too bad," she says. "But anything longer is tempting fate."

Hiwa gives one last drag of her cigarette, nice and long, savouring it, then drops it onto the ground and grinds it out with her heel. Time to get to work, it seems.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out the scroll where she stores all of her disguise supplies. At the movement, Rei gets up and totters a short ways from their campground, where she plops back down and goes right back to sleep. Now pillowless, Hiwa kneels in front of the fire.

"It doesn't have to be extreme," she says. "A different hairstyle and some contacts, probably. Then we'll just have to buy you some clothes you wouldn't normally wear from the village." She shrugs. "If we had more time, I'd probably dye it, doo. Just enough to either lighten up or bring down the colour a few shades from far away. But we don't have time for that, so I won't bother."

And it's a whole lot of work.

Hiwa reaches her hand into the scroll and feels around for the container where all her contacts are. Her fingers brush plastic. She grabs at it and yanks, and out pops a tupperware container with about twenty different coloured contacts. She tosses it over to Genma and then she goes back in for another container, something cardboard about as big as her palm. This one takes a bit longer, a full minute at least, but eventually she finds it and drags it out.

He nods towards it. "What's that?"

"I'm probably going to add a couple of tattoos onto you," she says. "I need to change your core traits as much as possible. Hair, eyes." She waves a hand. "You know, the distinguishable features."

All of this is the familiar work that drew her into infiltration in the first place. The subtle part of it. Knowing how to blend into a crowd. Picking the right hair colour, the right makeup and mannerisms, changing herself just enough that she becomes a natural part of the environment around her.

This was all of the work she did before. Learning how to trick the eye and the mind into thinking that she belongs exactly where she is. All of the tools of the trade are the same, save for a few additional bits and bobs that make things a little bit easier than they had been. But the core of it—contacts, dye, learning how to mimic an accent, putting on a new face literally and figuratively—work the exact same. People are people and cultures are cultures. They differ in practice, not concept. And she already had the concept down pat; she just had to learn the new practices.

Learn the new cultures, their languages and ticks and norms. And then adopt them for however long need be, as _whoever _that requires her to be. A light-footed dancer that has steel running through her veins in Wind Country, a suave courtesan with a coy smile in Tea Country, a submissive little girl who works magic in the shadows in Fire Country. They're all forms she's taken at one point, based on her research. And she hasn't gotten it wrong yet.

It's why even on a short mission, she opts for more traditional ways of blending in. She can henge as competently as any infiltrationist, but she chooses not to. Why fix what was never broken in the first place?

"You're going to disguise too?" he asks.

"Well, yeah," she says. "Just nothing as extreme, 'cause I don't have any bingo book entries like you do."

He blinks. "I do?"

She looks up from where she was flipping through the tattoos. "Yes?" she says. "You didn't know?"

"I never thought to keep tabs on it."

And that blows her mind because as lazy as she is, she can't imagine _not _keeping tabs on that kind of information.

"You have one in every single village's bingo book, as far as I know," she says. "Only a couple of them have photographs. I mean, not good ones. They're grainy as hell. But all of them at least nail your hair colour, eye colour, body shape, and just a general description of your likeness."

"And… why do you know that?"

Hiwa flushes red and coughs. She looks away, knowing full well how creepy this sounds but unwilling to lie or try and brush it away, not now that he's outright asked. "I researched you before I approached you a few days ago. Made sure you were single, checked how often you were out of village for missions, screened your mental health evaluations—I didn't have access to any of the information from them. Just whether you passed or failed. And, uh. Yeah."

"So when you were asking me about my work that first day—"

"I already knew the answers. I just didn't want to let on, 'cause I thought it might scare you off."

"I… probably should have expected that, shouldn't I?"

She shrugs, ignoring the odd swooping sensation in her stomach. "Yeah, well. _Anyways_, you're recognizable. Especially if they're expecting us. Any ninja infiltrator worth their kunai keeps up with the bingo books." She holds up a small tattoo, the kanji for 'hope' and 'light' written diagonally. "One of these on your forearm, is what I'm thinking. And then another one below your collarbone. They're specially designed for infiltration—they only come off when you unbind them. Otherwise, they won't smudge or wear for at least three months. Both will be casually visible."

He wrinkles his nose. "You want them to think I'm in a gang?"

"They won't," she says. "That's a central Fire Country stereotype. In Kusa, and this far away from Otafuki Gai, tattoos are something average people get. They're more… artistic expression than a way to brand yourself. It's actually very common for civilians to get them, men and women."

Genma sticks his now empty skewer into the fire and watches Hiwa. She goes back to her tattoo search. She's aware of his gaze; the nape of her neck prickles like it always does when somebody's staring at her. But she's content to wait him out.

She ends up settling on something that better suits their cover as a young couple from northern Waterfall who decided to travel to Fire Country for their honeymoon. An anchor. Most of the villages up that way work in the fishing and boating industry, rather than farming.

She holds up the tattoo. "You mind if I...?"

Genma nods.

So she gets up and takes the thing over to him. He rolls up the sleeve on his right arm, offering it for sacrifice.

"It's interesting, seeing you in your element."

Hiwa stops. Her eyes flick up to him, and he's watching her still. "Surprised?" she asks, a grin on her face.

But he shakes his head. "No. I didn't mean it like that." He pauses. "I didn't think you'd lie about it. You're just…" he trails off, chewing on his senbon.

"You can just out and say it. You won't hurt my feelings."

"I wasn't expecting you to be this engaged with it, or… competent. You almost seem like a different person."

She laughs. "You haven't actually seen me in action, yet. I wouldn't get ahead of yourself."

"I don't think I am."

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she nods and keeps working. She lays the parchment down just above his wrist. "This might actually hurt a bit," she says. "It uses chakra to bind to your skin."

"That's fine."

And when she presses the parchment paper to his skin and lays her palm flat over it, a bit of her chakra flares to activate the tattoo. Calling it a tattoo feels disingenuous, honestly—it's seal work, created by Jiraiya and handed down to all of his agents. The only thing that gets them off is the counterseal, which sits on the other half of the parchment paper. But she likes to keep some tricks of the trade secret.

Genma flexes his arm and peers down at the tattoo. "An anchor."

"Seemed fitting."

"Yeah. Then, what's the other one?"

She holds it up for him. His laugh is abrupt, loud and sharp.

The tattoo is small, a simplistic rendition of a sun, little more than a circle with squiggly lines coming off of it. She writes her name as 陽和, with the first kanji meaning 'sun'. And while she obviously won't be using her actual name for the mission—Jiraiya picked their names, from what the scroll says, so she won't know what it is until she goes to check in—but she thought it was fun.

"Cute, right?" she asks.

"Yeah, yeah."

Genma strips his flak jacket and shirt to give Hiwa better access and she gets the tattoo settled on the left side of his chest, right near his heart. Genma get a kick out of the sentimentality of it, on top of everything else, but Hiwa just rolls her eyes.

And as she goes about her business, Hiwa very politely doesn't notice the ANBU tattoo on his right arm.

Once the tattoos are on, it's time to deal with his hair. She frowns.

"Your hair," she says.

"You can do whatever."

She taps her finger against the tattoo container that she's still holding. "I've got some glue-in extensions I can stick on your head to make it longer. It's easy to remove. I've got a solution that weakens the glue's bond, and they're the most discreet option, 'cause it's just a tiny clear plastic bead that holds them in place."

When he shrugs, she takes that as permission.

She goes back for her scroll and hunts down her hair bin, by far the biggest container she keeps in her disguise scroll. It takes her a few minutes to find some that will mostly match his hair colour, and she actually ends up picking some a few shades lighter, to try and add some dimension to the colour, then she decides _how _long she wants to make it.

Long enough to have a decent ponytail or go into a bun, is what she settles on.

She hums absently. "You decide on an eye colour?"

"Green, probably."

Hiwa nods, combing out the extensions. "That's a safe bet. It'll look pretty natural with your hair colour."

"What about you?"

"Whad'ya mean?"

"Your disguise. You said you were doing one, too."

"Like I said, 'cause I'm not in any bingo books, I don't have to do as much. And I don't exactly have a reputation, since most of what I do is out of the ninja realm. But I'll probably wear some contacts, go for something a bit more strong. Purple, maybe. It's a surprisingly common eye colour in northern Waterfall. Dunno what I'll do with my hair, yet. Probably either cut off a few inches or just wear it down." She makes a face. "And I'll have to cover up my markings."

"Can you use makeup for that?" he asks. "Since the hot springs will just wear it off."

"I've got prosthetics to cover them up. They're… similar to the tattoo, honestly."

And were designed _specifically _for her by Jiraiya, once she started doing work for him. They're basically two triangular chunks of a thin, rubber-like material that look exactly like skin and apply seamlessly. The beauty of sealing something _into_ her skin. By design, the bond is flat and flawless, so she won't have to always blend it in with makeup. It's uncanny how it works, and the fact that Jiraiya has technology like this on his side is the only reason she ever believes he still does fieldwork, with how distinctive his _everything _is.

"Can I see them?"

"Sure," she says. "Just let me stick these into your hair. It'll probably take me like, twenty minutes to get all of them in there properly, but once they're in they won't be coming out until we're back in the village."

"Yeah, alright."

He pulls off his bandana and she gets to work combing the knots out of his hair.

The second her fingers touch his hair, she mumbles a small, "Oh."

Her face burns bright red. She definitely didn't mean to say that.

"What?"

Shoving away her embarrassment, she says, "Your hair is just… softer than I was expecting."

"Oh," he says. "Cool."

She thinks he might have cringed, the way the left side of his face scrunched up for a second, but from where she sits, just behind him, she can't see enough of his face to say for sure.

Well. Since the conversation has already gone into awkward territory, Hiwa has another topic she should probably bring up now rather than later. Get it out of the way.

"One thing we still need to talk about is boundaries," she says.

He stiffens and turns his head to look at her.

She guides his head straight again, still mapping out where she wants to put the extensions. "We're acting like we're a couple, so there's going to be pet names and physical contact, and all that."

"I'm fine with anything," he says. "Nothing I haven't done before for a mission."

And Genma doesn't sound bothered by that, but for some reason, it makes Hiwa wince. "Right."

"So I need to know what's going to bother you."

"I'm fine with anything, too." She hesitates. "Actually, nothing crude. Had a guy grab my ass on a mission once without warning and I broke two of his ribs by accident." In her defense, it was an actual accident. She didn't feel bad about it, all things considered, but it _was _an accident. "So for your own safety, don't do that. But anything else is fine."

He wraps an arm around his midsection. "Noted."

"Don't worry—I'm sure you'll act like a perfect gentleman," she says.

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

.

.

Once they've packed up camp and they're ready to set off, Hiwa heads over to Rei.

"You know the drill," she murmurs, running a hand over Rei's head.

Rei huffs and leans into Hiwa's hand. Her tail tips downward.

Hiwa crouches down to circle her arms against Rei's neck and bury her face in the fur, letting out a breath. Rei whines.

"I know," Hiwa mumbles. "If anything goes wrong, I'll signal you, okay?"

But it isn't safe for Rei to stay close to the resort and Hiwa won't be able to go out and see Rei without looking suspicious. They'll be out of contact for the full three weeks unless something goes wrong. And they're used to it; it happens every mission. It's just never gotten easier.

Hiwa pulls back, sitting on her haunches, and Rei pushes her nose against Hiwa's cheek. It's warm and wet and Hiwa can't help but smile.

"Just three weeks."

Rei gives a low bark, one more nuzzle, and then takes off running into the surrounding forest, her pitch black fur disappearing into the steadily darkening forest.

"Signal each other?" Genma asks.

He's stood back a bit, giving the two of them the chance to say goodbye.

"Yeah," Hiwa says, voice soft. She shakes herself. "Inuzuka and their ninken have a different bond than what most ninja form with their ninken. We can sense each other's chakra from pretty far away. It's not psychic, or anything, like some of the rumors. More that Inuzuka are just able to attune to their ninken's chakra, and they can do it to ours. Allows for communication like that. One pulse is just a general check in, two pulses is a request for back up from each other. If I pulse my chakra three times, that's me asking her to get me backup." She shrugs. "Really basic, but it gets the job done. It's just…"

"Not the same as being beside each other," Genma finishes.

"Yeah."

"Like you said, three weeks."

"Yeah," she says again. "Yeah."

.

.

She slips her hand into Genma's as they walk through the doors of the resort. He twines his fingers through hers, and Hiwa is grateful, because right now she's so close to breaking and scratching at her prosthetics that she needs a distraction.

They always take some adjustment. In a few hours she won't even be able to feel them. She knows that. And that's how she's getting through the discomfort. But having something to literally keep her from scratching helps.

"You good?"

She doesn't jump, though it's a near thing when she feels the sudden warm breath against her ear as Genma whispers.

Hiwa smiles and squeezes his hand. "Fine," she whispers back. "Bit uncomfortable, but it'll pass."

He nods. They keep on their way.

She studies him from the corner of her eye, and she thinks it's a damn shame he doesn't like to wear his hair up because it looks _good_. Decked out in the plain navy blue kimono they bought down in the village proper, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and those startling green eyes, Genma is definitely the attractive one in their duo.

And a good thing, that is. She doubts he's going to have any trouble holding down his part of the mission; the people here won't know what hit them.

Which reminds Hiwa of why they're here, and she takes to analyzing the resort's lobby.

It reminds her of the hilariously kitchy Japanese hotels she saw pop up in the more touristy parts of Japan when she visited there for an assignment once. All bamboo flooring and papered walls, with traditional artwork hung around and splattered over the walling. There are no couches for guests to wait at—all she can see are pillows and low-sitting tables, probably made of Hashirama wood.

She can smell the incense, strong enough that she scrunches her nose and fights off the urge to sneeze into her sleeve.

But it all seems to be working for the guests. They're feeling the walls and admiring the artwork, not paying much attention to her and Genma as they walk past on their way to the check in desk.

And out of curiosity, Hiwa adds a bit of chakra to her ears. Her grip tightens on Genma's hand for a second as the sounds all wash over her, close to overwhelming, but she takes a breath and when Genma looks at her in the corner of his eye, she smiles at him.

Inuzuka enhanced senses are something else.

Most people assume all the Inuzuka are blessed with are a sharpened sense of smell. That's not the case. _All _their senses are enhanced. Sight, smell, and hearing have the most noticeable difference, but it's there for all of them. And there are crazy things Hiwa's learned to do with her enhanced senses, all useful when it comes to infiltration.

One of those things involves mapping out buildings through hearing. Meaning that as Hiwa walks, letting Genma pull her along as more of her attention goes to sorting through the auditory input she's getting, she gets a feel for the architecture. A floor level, where most of the noise is contained to, and then three seperate floors above them, which she's guessing are all dedicated to the guest rooms. A lot of ground for them to cover.

She feels Genma squeeze her hand and she cuts the chakra flow to her ears, just in time to take in the fact that they're now in front of the front desk, about to check in.

Hiwa rubs at the bridge of her nose to push away the headache and plasters on a smile.

The lady standing behind the counter has on a full traditional kimono, with her hair teased up and then pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck. "Hello," she says to them as they approach. "How may I help you two this evening?"

"We've got room fifty-nine booked," Hiwa says.

The woman nods. She hauls a book onto the counter and flips it open. "Let's see," she says. She runs her finger down the list. "Ah, yes. Shin and Kokona Murai?"

Hiwa's smile goes brittle and she hopes that it doesn't show because more than ever, she wants to throttle Jiraiya. "Yes," she says. "That's us."

She hands over a key. "Your room will be on the second floor, on your right. The elevator is just around the corner."

"Thank you," Genma says.

He drags her away.

Hiwa can see a hint of a laugh in his face, but he holds it in until they've gotten back to their room, checked for cameras, and peppered the thing with privacy seals.

The first thing he says is, "Kokona? Really?"

"That was Jiraiya."

"Shin and Kokona," he says. "Truth and heart's love."

Hiwa leans back on the bed, sighing. "He thinks he's funny."

And he's a greedy bastard who shamelessly uses his agents mission reports as the basis for his novels. Hiwa's already dreading having to write this mission report because Jiraiya's going to have a field day, no matter how she minces the details.

She should probably get to unpacking her things. And brush her teeth. And take out her contacts. And comb out her hair that she has, as she guessed, simply taken to wearing down—when out of her braids, the length change is enough that she didn't feel the need to cut it.

But she's just ready to go to sleep. She'll deal with all of that tomorrow morning.

Her eyes itch, and she rubs them with a groan.

Contacts out. There's no avoiding that one. Then, sleep.

"Any idea what we're gonna do tomorrow?" Genma asks, already in the process of getting out his contacts.

Good to see they're on the same page.

"I need to get my bearings," she says. "Probably go for a tour of the entire place, feel out some of the staff or regular guests. And just look for any sign of ninja." She lifts her head to look at him and can see there's now a senbon stuck between his teeth. She didn't even hear him grab it, or see where he grabbed it from.

"Sounds fun," he says.

"You just gotta sit there and look pretty, so it probably will be for you."

He scoffs.

"Considering Jiraiya did tell us to have a _bit _of fun while we're here, is there anything you want to do?" she asks.

Genma yanks the elastic out of his hair and it tumbles down to sit over his shoulders, long enough to brush against his collarbone. "Honestly, a day or two in the springs is all I need."

Hiwa hums. "I'll probably hit the gambling tables."

"So you're that kind of ninja."

"I don't cheat," she says. "Don't have to."

He raises an eyebrow. "I think that being a ninja alone qualifies you as cheating."

"Semantics. Besides, I know the type that hang out there. Old men who laugh when the little girl sits down at their table. They're due for a good lesson."

"Hm. As long as I get to be there for it, I don't care."

"My knight in shining armor," Hiwa says, monotone, staring up at the ceiling. "Gonna protect me from the big, bad men?"

He chuckles, a warm sound that resonates in the pit of Hiwa's stomach. "We'll see."

"Cold."

"Hey, no need to protect what can protect itself."

She lets out a low whistle. "There is it. Nice save."

With a great deal of effort, Hiwa rolls herself off the bed and gathers up the oversized shirt she brought for sleeping in. Neither of them went overboard in packing. With only an hour to get it done, there's only so much you can shove into your bag. She was more worried about having enough underwear and socks, and having some decent civilian clothes to get her through. Sleeping clothes were an afterthought, a couple of old men's t-shirts thrown into her bag on her way out of the door.

"Changing," she calls over her shoulder, and she can just catch Genma's back stiffen from where he's sitting at the vanity on the other side of the room.

And she sheds the beige kimono she'd packed for herself, a pretty typical travelling kimono, and lets it drop to the floor. She kicks it off in the vague direction of her pack. The t-shirt slips on easily, and it hits just above her knee, basically a dress on her.

"You're clear."

She turns, expecting him to be staring at the corner, or down at his hands, or anywhere other than _her_, like most men would to preserve her dear, sweet modesty. But his eyes are locked on her.

She quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

He seems to snap out of whatever stupor he was in. "Nothing."

Slowly, she says, "Right."

She goes over to join him at the vanity. He scoots over to make room on the bench, but she shakes her head. "Just taking these out," she says, pointing at her eyes.

The contacts pop out easily and she drops them into the holder.

That settled, she makes her way back over to the bed and nestles herself under the covers. Genma spends a few more minutes getting himself ready, braiding his hair back and slipping into a plain black t-shirt and shorts.

His gaze rests on the bed.

Hiwa stretches like a cat on the half of the bed she's taken. She left the other half untouched, pillow and all, in what she hoped was an obvious message to him. One that apparently didn't get through.

She makes herself sit up and drawls, "Ah, the age-old debate."

His eyes flick up to her and he waits. Hiwa rolls her eyes.

"Come on, get in bed."

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor," he says. "Or we could take turns."

"Seriously? This is tiring. I'm tired. You might be one of those freaks that can go like, seventy-two-hours and not need a wink of sleep, but I'm not." She pats the empty half. "This bed is literally designed for two people to sleep in it."

"You won't break my ribs in my sleep?"

"Are you implying you're going to try and grab my ass in your sleep?"

"I'm a natural cuddler, I've been known to get grabby."

"Kami," she mutters and flops back down onto the bed. "As long as I don't wake up to a hand in a weird place, you won't wake up with broken ribs. Alright? A bit of spooning is regulation. I'm not opposed to physical contact."

Annoyingly, she can still see him thinking it over, despite what she's said.

There's considerate and then there's patronizing and she doubts he's trying to—or even realizes it—but he's teetering more on the latter than the former. She means what she says, and it's unfair to not take her words at face value.

It's an interesting thing she's noticed he does, where he takes a step ahead of her and builds the bridge without asking if she can leap the distance herself.

She doesn't mind with more benign things like opening the door for her or filling her plate at dinner, but there's a line. If she's not set the boundary she doesn't expect him to honour it. When it's out there, clear as day, though, wanting him to pay attention to it doesn't feel like she's asking for very much.

Finally he says, "Yeah, alright," and slides into the other half of the bed.

"If you're up before I am, feel free to wake me up," she says. "If you don't there's a good chance I won't get up until noon or later."

He pushes the hair away from his face to give her a dubious look. "It's like, ten at night."

"And I'll sleep for all fourteen of those hours." She flips onto her side, looking at him. "There's no alarm clock and I don't really have an internal one. I'll literally sleep eighteen hours a day if somebody leaves me to it."

He snorts, thoroughly unimpressed. "How do you survive on missions where you aren't sleeping in a room like this?"

"I've got a watch that buzzes to wake me up. Didn't bring it 'cause I expected an alarm clock. That, or I just have teammates wake me up."

"Sounds inconvenient."

Hiwa lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "It is what it is. But, yeah. I mean it. If you want me up at a reasonable time you're going to have to help me out on this one. And don't worry—waking me up won't land you broken ribs, either."

"Thanks," he says dryly, but there's a good-natured smile on his face.

"Welcome."

And on that note, she turns towards the wall, she hears him turn towards the other wall, and the two of them settle in for the night.


	7. Chapter Seven

_The greatest mistake we make is living in_

_constant fear that we will make one._

* * *

It isn't that Genma didn't believe her when she mentioned that she'll sleep the day away if he let her.

He pauses mid-page turn.

From his spot in the chair across from the bed, he lets the top of his book fall down a smidge to glance at Hiwa, still out cold. She snores softly and rolls over so that her face is pressed into the pillow and one knee is curled up to her chest while the other is only part of the way there.

No, he supposes it is.

He didn't believe her because never in his life has he met a ninja—not even a Nara—who sleeps like this without being injured, chakra exhausted, sick, or just generally recovering their energy post-mission.

And yet here she is, on her tenth hour of uninterrupted sleep and going strong even though they travelled at a relatively tame pace on their trip from Konoha.

She didn't wake up when he detangled himself from around her this morning and got out of bed.

(Like a magnet, despite having fallen asleep on polar opposite sides of the bed, he found himself right up against her when he woke up, his arm thrown over her waist and one of his legs pushed into the back of her knee. He felt a bit odd about it until he saw that she'd rested her head back to rest on his collarbone and had one of her hands laid over top of his, her weight leaned into him.)

She wasn't fazed when he puttered around the room this morning. He got dressed, brushed his teeth, double-checked the privacy seals, and went over his supplies. All of which he did with as much noise as possible in hopes that it would wake her up.

And once the sun started to peek above the horizon, Genma threw the curtains wide open hoping that the bright morning sun might do the job. And she slept through that, too, even as it shone right in her face.

On one hand, Genma's kind of jealous. He can't even sleep that long when somebody shoots him up with a sedative.

But he also can't imagine having to plan around sleeping like the dead. He relies on his ability to wake up if there's any change in his environment, be it an odd noise, a drop or boost in temperature, a change in the weather, the like. He needs to be able to sleep for three hours and wake up to keep moving.

The _thought_ of being this vulnerable leaves him unsettled. And Hiwa was so casual about it.

Genma pulls one of his legs up onto the chair and settles his chin on it.

He'll give her another hour.

.

.

Hiwa wakes up to a warm breeze and the smell of food.

The sun, hot and bright, chafes against her closed eyes, and she curls in on herself, not quite ready to be awake yet even as her stomach lets out a vicious growl.

"So food's what'll do it. Good to know."

She shoves her face further into her pillow. "Can't I have at least five minutes of being awake before being profiled?" she mumbles, the words half-swallowed by the fabric.

There's a scoff.

Hiwa slides her pillow out from under her head and hucks it at him. The thump it makes upon contact is too solid to have hit a body.

With a sigh, she sits up, rubbing the grit out of her eyes.

Genma's on the floor. He has a plate of food in front of him, some rice blanketed by a couple of fried eggs. She can see another plate behind him, hidden under a metal cover, and then a couple of distinctly Grass Country pastries plated beside a pot of coffee.

"Coffee," she murmurs. "You wonderful man."

He makes a face. "Figures that you're a coffee person."

"You're not?"

Genma raises a cup of tea and winks at her. He gulps down a sip.

She slides out of bed. Her legs wobble a bit as she stumbles towards the coffee, kind of like a baby deer who isn't quite ready to take their first steps, but she doesn't faceplant and that's what counts in the end.

Japanese teas were never her taste. Too bitter, and adding something like sugar or cream would get you an eye roll at best or a disgusted look at worst. Coffee, however, was something overwhelmingly familiar to her, to the point that she almost cried when she first stumbled on it years and years ago.

One thing Hiwa quickly noticed is that while Fire Country might be largely based on Japanese culture, not all of the Elemental Nations are.

Grass Country seems to be closer to western culture more than anything else, for example. People introduce themselves by their given names and shake hands. Coffee is the beverage choice more than tea (and though it's not quite brewed to her preferences, it's close enough), red meat and poultry-based diets with vegetables over fish and rice, the like. It reminds her of America, honestly.

Genma raises an eyebrow as she douses her cup of coffee in cream and sprinkles a bit of cinnamon into it.

Waterfall Country makes her think of Thailand. Brightly coloured clothes and brighter smiles on the people. Heavy emphasis on generational respect. It seems to take after the southern parts of Thailand, when it comes to the food customs, with the traditional sticklers still eating on the floor with their bare hands. Last she was there, that had been on it's way out the door. She can still remember how she'd been laughed at when, acting on her research, she went to settle herself on the floor mat, and with good humour, her host had asked her if the table wasn't up to her standards.

And then there's Wind Country.

Wind Country is where she spent the majority of her time, during the war. Wind Country that leaves her with an indescribable pang of longing as it's familiar and yet so foreign to her. Wind Country whose culture is anything but clear cut, some sort of Franken-amalgamation of desert cultures, pulling from the Middle East, India, and Mexico.

She remembers the sand, and how it glittered like a dancer's veil, brought to light by the molten gold glow of the sun. How her veil fluttered around her like a baby bird's wing in the breeze. The ambrosia that dripped from the cactus rose as she trudged her way through the desert. The hot air, a reptilian delight that shimmered on the horizon, and how fast it gave way to the slow crawl of snowflakes twinkling against the backdrop of the night sky once the air froze over and darkness fell.

She also remembers how excited she'd gotten when, at dinner one evening with her mark at the time, she'd read the menu and found a cold, rose-syrup desert, and in the back of her mind memories of another child eating delicate spoonfuls of it to ward away the heat flooded her with nostalgia. But then she ordered it, and there it was, and it was so very close but it just _wasn't _right, because where she expected something almost like a milkshake she'd been served a sorbet, and where she expected nothing but soft sweetness she was met with the sharp tang of lime.

How eagerly she'd been welcomed into the homes of strangers with the wave of a hand, a novelty she never thought she'd find in a world this dangerous, and how after getting settled she would be greeted with the question of "coffee or chai?". She nearly broke down sobbing the first time it happened, and it took a fair few hasty excuses to smooth it over.

(She asked Jiraiya to stop sending her to Wind Country when she started working for him again, after the war.

"_What? How could I stop sending you there?" he responded. "None of my other agents—shit, I bet nobody else in Konoha—can work that culture like you can. You're a natural, there."_

"_I just—I can't," she said. "If I have to get back into this work, I can't do it there. I'm sorry, but I can't. After everything, it's too much."_

_There was a knowing glint in his eyes as he nodded and swore that he'd never send her back, and she let him think he knew. What else could she do?_

_How could she explain that her chest ached at the feel of Wind Country's sand between her toes, silky and scorching hot because this wasn't the set of feet that first knew the sensation. He could never comprehend the contradiction of being in a home that is so familiar and yet so foreign all at the same time, that comes so close to being just what she remembers and then out of nowhere takes a step back, just when she thinks she's settled._

_She couldn't, so she didn't. She let Jiraiya think it was the Third War that did it and the matter stayed settled._

_And she hated that even with all of this, all the pains and contradictions and conflictions, a part of her yearned to go back to Wind, if only for a few minutes, she could trick herself into believing that she was somebody else._)

Hiwa feels a hand on hers and freezes. The soft clink of metal on ceramic, a noise she hadn't even realized had begun to drone on in the back of her mind, goes quiet.

She blinks.

Genma's crouched in front of her and his hand is wrapped around the one she's been stirring her coffee with. His face is neutral, with no concern or pity in his eyes. But when he asks, "Alright?" there's enough soft understanding packed into the single word that she averts her gaze down to stare at her now thoroughly stirred coffee.

_You'll never get it, either_, she thinks.

He rubs his thumb against her knuckles and a small smile warps her face.

_But thanks for trying._

Her silence seems to be answer enough for Genma, because he lets go and settles himself beside her, his back leant up against the foot of the bed. Their shoulders are touching, and the sensation of it helps ground her.

She reaches over to pick up one of the pastries, a pop-tart in everything but name, and dunks it into her coffee. The sugary explosion in her mouth is offset by the slight bitterness of the coffee, and the whole thing melts on her tongue. Another taste of a dead home, but at least this one is honest.

"What's under the cover?" she asks, using her foot to gesture at it.

"I ordered you eggs and pork."

She tries for a grin because she knows what's going on between the lines, there. "You mean scrambled eggs and bacon?"

The face he pulls is equal parts disgust and dismay. "I don't know how they can eat their pork or eggs like that," he says. "It's more grease and fat than meat, and the eggs are just so…"

"Drown it in syrup."

He eyes her. "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"Dead serious," she says. "It's pretty good. One time, I was at a restaurant where they put scrambled eggs, bacon, and butter on top of a pastry, covered it in caramel syrup, and then rolled the whole thing up and put dusted sugar on top."

"And… you ate that."

"I ate it and loved every second of it."

"Horrible."

She shrugs. "It's like, salty and sweet all at once. You should try it before you knock it."

"Yeah… alright."

.

.

"Favourite colour?"

"Green."

Hiwa skews her gaze to him. "That was fast."

He shrugs. "Green's a cool colour."

"Fair."

Where their arms are intertwined, Genma taps his fingers against her forearm. She catches a couple of people's eyes on them and she leans into his side, her head on his shoulder. In the corner of her eye, the ring on his finger, hastily purchased in a village they passed a few stops before getting to the resort, catches the sunlight and glistens. There's a matching one nestled on the ring finger of her right hand.

"Favourite book?" he asks.

Hiwa turns her gaze to the walls, analyzing the art as they walk past, specifically for any sign of seal work disguised in art. She's got a bit of an eye for microphones, too. Most of the world isn't quite there with technology, yet, but Kusa tends to have a leg up on Konoha—they're more diverse with where they invest themselves, and they've always been more advanced with their technology—so she's looking to be on the safe side.

Most of her attention is on the people around her, though. She knows how Kusa is. She knows how sneaky they are, and that Kusa ninja can give her a real run for her money when it comes to undercover work.

"Asking for just one?" she says. "That's not fair."

"Name of the game."

It's delivered with a languid shrug and she doesn't think it's meant to be all that funny, but she laughs, an automatic response built into her from years of going through the motions of verbal sparring with a mission partner.

Her mind's occupied. A third of her attention, if that, is on the conversation.

Two ninja infiltrators butting heads is like Russian Roulette except you can only pull the trigger once every five hours. She has to wait for them to slip up and hope that she isn't the one to slip up first. See the shine of a poorly hidden senbon, catch a movement that's too smooth for a civilian, feel the brush of chakra in use. The mask always cracks, eventually—it's a matter of when and where.

Admittedly, Hiwa has a love-hate relationship with spy games like this. The chance to go measure to measure with somebody else is a way to flex her skills and it gives her a challenge she can't find in civilian-level missions. Ninja are craftier. It's two predators circling each other rather than a cat going after a mouse.

But the stakes take the fun out of it. A blown cover is a quick ticket to a fight, and Hiwa's never been much of a fighter.

She smothers a sigh.

She's playing chess blind with a gun rested on the back of her head. She won't know she's in checkmate until the barrel gets hot and for most other infiltrators she's met, they relish the burn. It's one of the times she's glad she can't relate to her colleagues.

"Can I just give you a favourite genre?"

"Are you negotiating with me on 20 questions?"

"Yes."

Genma taps his finger against her arm, four times. She glances to the left. There's a maiko settled on a bench in the sitting room, a fan held in front of her face. Her eyes are glued on Genma, and there's something mischievous in her bright green eyes. Her expression goes coy when she locks eyes with Hiwa.

A decent catch; maiko are one of the more common covers for kunoichi to take in a civilian environment. The heavy makeup and cumbersome clothing are an easy disguise, and maiko were expected to be graceful—it doesn't set off alarms if they don't move like civilians do. That's one she'll have her eye on.

"Alright. Favourite genre."

"Romance."

He scoffs, and she tilts her head up to grin at him.

They slip out of the doors of the main building, headed towards the garden. Hiwa's curious about this one.

Gardens are a staple of political shenanigans in Fire Country. Far more for civilian nobility than any ninja, but she'd be remiss to strike the possibility from the get-go here.

She raises a hand to block out the sun. "Alright," she says. "Any allergies?"

"Almonds."

"_Really_?"

"Yeah. And tree nuts."

Hiwa clicks her tongue. "You poor, unfortunate soul."

"Could be worse."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Rai's allergic to vinegar."

"I didn't know you could be allergic to it?"

"Sensitive might be a better word. But if you give him anything vinegar-heavy, he'll get the worst cramps. His stomach was in knots for days, once, when we were drunk and he ate some kind of stir-fry that was filled with vinegar, and he was too far gone to care."

She laughs, and this time it's genuine. "Yeah, okay. Ouch."

They pass by another young couple, settled together on one of the grassy patches near a pond. Hiwa was wondering when they'd find it—she's been hearing the sound of the water filtering system since they got out here.

They're both reading, leaned up against each other with a dark green blanket beneath them. They're a cute couple.

When Genma doesn't keep the game going, Hiwa finds herself asking, "Out of curiosity, how long have you two known each other? You and Raidou, I mean?"

Genma blinks.

He rubs the back of his neck, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down a bit, showing off the anchor tattoo. "Probably not as long as you think."

"I was guessing ten years."

"Less," Genma says. "About four and a half, now."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. We met after I got promoted to special jonin, and started the process of getting recruited for the guard platoon."

"How long did you guys date?"

Genma almost stumbles, she can feel it in the tremor that runs through him, like the after-effects of an earthquake. There's no other noticeable reaction. No facial twitch, no visible stiffening.

She finds it interesting that somebody who usually is so open can close themselves up so effectively. Not surprising because he's still a ninja and that's just how ninja _are_. It does make her wonder, though, how much of the openness he puts on display is genuine—she thought most of it, but she might have some recalculating to do.

It's a nosey thing to say and more than a bit uncalled for, but it's been stuck in her head since that dinner and without her whole attention in the conversation, her filter's not as clear as it should be. Once the words are out, she feels a bit bad and squeezes his arm.

"What tipped you off?" he asks.

They enter a more secluded part of the garden, where none of the other guests seem to have wandered. At least, that's what she thinks until she catches sight of a young woman with long blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail and soft brown eyes a few metres away. She looks normal, honestly. Plain brown tunic and cotton trousers. She's bent down, running her hands over the dirt, and Hiwa frowns.

Then she looks up and stares directly at Hiwa and Genma.

Hiwa's heart drops a beat.

"Intimacy. I guessed you guys were childhood friends, with the level you have. But without that a romantic relationship is the second-best bet, especially one with sexual elements to it," she says, more focused on the woman than the words leaving her mouth. "I mean, I'm guessing you dated. If not you at least boned a few times."

Genma pulls back and his eyes narrow a fraction. Hiwa snaps back into the conversation.

She squeezes his arm again and pulls him back to her side. She smiles and, as if remembering what they're doing, Genma smiles, too. It's a little too tight to pass for natural but she doubts any outside observer can pick up on that.

The blonde woman turns her gaze from them and walks away.

Casually, she says, "Sorry, I know that's really rude of me. Curiosity combined with minimal focus on the conversation at hand. I'm mostly just trying to keep up the chatter."

Because she doubts anybody can hear, but everybody can _see_ them, so their lips can't stop moving.

Off to her right, Hiwa zeroes in on one of the garden staff out pulling weeds. She takes in the fine lines of his face and the age spots littered around his body, all up his arms and neck, a few smattered on his face. He walks with a slight limp. But she doesn't see any scars, or the toned body shape that ninja carry with them even into retirement. She dismisses him.

"It's fine," he says.

In the back of her mind, she registers the thump as his heart kick up a beat and the sharp puff of musk as his sweat glands fire off, both a side effect of catecholamines hormones being released. A natural reaction when somebody lies. So, she knows for a fact that it most certainly isn't fine, but she doesn't contradict him.

Her mind is wrapped up in the fact that as they stroll past the man, Hiwa's at the perfect angle to catch sight of a line of black wire that runs from his ear and into his shirt.

An earpiece.

Technology like that? Being used so frivolously? No. Not even the most high class, prominent hotel or resort would outfit their menial staff with wireless communication like that. Not even all of Konoha's jonin have that for their missions. There's a limited supply and you have to justify the need for one on a mission before you leave, and even then, she has heard more than a few stories of people having to march into Research and Development and pry it out of the vice grip of the research chunin.

Alarm bells blare in Hiwa's head.

She feels Genma lead her towards the pond, and she lets herself be tugged and plasters an empty smile on her face.

He grins at her, all smug cockiness, and leans down towards her ear. "Bad?" he whispers.

She laughs. "Thinking so," she whispers back. "Gardener's got an earpiece."

More loudly, he says, wiggling his eyebrows, "Let's go back to the room, then."

She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm, but she doesn't resist as he pulls her back towards the main building.

.

.

Genma rubs at his chin, and his senbon bobs up and down with the movement. Hiwa can see bits of stubble shadowed along his jaw.

"I couldn't tell how advanced the technology is," she says. She twists the cigarette in her hand, watching the smoke ebb and flow from the end of it from her spot, sat cross-legged on top of the bed. "Like, I don't know if there's a mic on it, as well, or if it's one way."

"There's no reason to use an earpiece for civilian coordination," he says. "They just use walkie talkies."

"Exactly."

Genma stretches from his spot in the chair. She hears his back crack and pop, and when he settles again, his posture seems looser. "So?"

"I mean, technically, it could be anything. It could be some kind of extravagant employee coordination because some shady business owners are over the top like that. Especially if they know there might be eyes on them and want to keep up a communication network. This resort is like, an ideal place to smuggle sex slaves through, because of how close it is to the border." She pulls from the cigarette and lets the smoke sit in her mouth. "Could also be drug smuggling," she says, waving a hand. A cloud of smoke follows the words. "Or any other seedy stuff. It's an indication that something is going on here, which we already knew. There's no point in jumping to conclusions until we have more information."

"You think they're in on it?" he asks. "That they might have details about what's going on?"

"It wouldn't surprise me."

Because she's seen this before and most of the time, the staff know _something_ is going on, even if they don't have the details.

"I'm guessing that most of them just turn a blind eye to whatever it is," she says. "Take their money and brush it off as not their concern. 'Cause this job is just a paycheque, to them. So what if they have weird instructions to follow, and sometimes have to do some snooping on the guests? What gets done with that information isn't on them. If they hadn't given it to their boss, somebody else would have. No skin off their back."

"At best, willful ignorance. At worst, knowing compliance with treason."

"That sounds about right."

"Great." Genma sighs. "Then I guess that's tomorrow," he says. "See what information we can get on the staff, figure out what they maybe do and don't know."

Hiwa nods. "Yeah."

And how do they go about this?

A cheshire grin unfurls over Hiwa's face, and she leans forward. "How do you feel about working some magic on one of the staff?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You're pulling that one out already?"

"Sitting on strategies isn't always the best way to go. Besides, as long as you're fine with it, there's no rule saying you can only sleep with one person."

"If you think it's the best move, I'm fine with it."

"Cool," she says. "Now. Dinner?"

He shrugs. "Sure. I think they're serving ramen, tonight."

"I wonder if it'll be more Grass Country or Fire Country."

"They eat ramen in Grass Country?"

"Their own version of it," she says. "It's alright. Not even in the same ballpark as Ichiraku's, but you won't regret it."

"Nothing comes close to Ichiraku's."

"Looks like you've got some taste in you, at least."

"After what you said this morning, I think that's my line."

"You'll try it, and you'll realize I was right. I swear it'll happen one day."

"Yeah, alright."

Hiwa hums. She dips her cigarette butt into a plate of water on the bedside table and fans the smoke away with her hands. "I'm sorry about earlier, by the way."

She sees him stiffen in her peripheral. "I told you, it's fine," he answers. "Not a big deal."

The smoke stubbornly clings to the air and Hiwa mutters a curse. "Was it?" she asks. She rummages through the bedside table for a book or something and comes out with some shitty brochure. "Reminder that I'm a walking-talking lying detector. Whatever reason you're lying, I'd rather you don't because even if you don't mean to do it, it feels like you're treating me with kiddy gloves, or something."

On her hands and knees, she waves the brochure around. The smoke lingers a bit, looking like a photograph filter on the air, but it's nowhere near as bad. As long as nobody enters the room in the next fifteen or twenty minutes—because unfortunately for them, it's less suspicious to leave their room open for staff—they won't be able to tell.

Good enough.

Realizing Genma hasn't answered yet, she pauses and turns to look at him. He's stood in the bathroom doorway. His shoulder is leaned on the side of the frame and the senbon in his mouth twists around a bit.

"What?" she asks.

"Why'd you ask?" he says. "'Bout me and Rai."

"Like I said out in the garden, curiosity. Seeing that couple just… brought it back to mind. People are like puzzles to me, you know? I find relationships and social networks to be fascinating," she says. "I didn't need to know, or anything. Which is why I shouldn't have asked—no matter how unusual our situation might be, I don't want to stick my nose where it doesn't belong. And I know that. It was a dumb mistake, and I shouldn't have made it, even if I was preoccupied."

"And you don't care?"

Hiwa furrows her brow. She drops back onto her butt, the brochure hanging from her grip. "Why would I care?" she asks. She eyes the brochure and tosses it onto the bedside table. "I meant it when I said I'm not expecting like, anything from you. You can keep going on with your relationships as usual."

And then she goes stone-still.

_Oh_.

"I'm also not bothered by the fact that you've been involved with men," she says softly.

Because not everybody can say that. And while homosexuality itself isn't quite the issue, given that men have always had sexual relationships and most seduction specialists are expected to swing either way for a mission, long-term queer relationships can be a touchy subject. In a society where the family line continuing is tantamount, relationships that don't promote that can run into problems.

Especially in the ninja clans. The Inuzuka being one of those, as much as she'd love to say otherwise.

His interest in men was no surprise to her, and she didn't need to do research to figure that one out—Genma's well known for getting around with a wide variety of people. Men, women, any anybody in-between. Which is a little tidbit she keeps in her head because regardless of what she might know (or think she knows), that's not the kind of assumption she ever wants to throw in somebody's face.

Genma finally steps towards the bed and nods. He gives her a crooked grin, and from the way it smooths out the rest of his features, she thinks it's a real one.

She stashes that bit of information in the back of her head and inclines her head.

"Let's get going," he says. "Before all the seats in the dining room are all taken. That place didn't look all that big."

Hiwa hauls herself up and settles in beside him. "Yeah. Might be able to get some good gossip while we're down there, too."

"Maybe," he says. "Food and alcohol are the best way to get people to say dumb stuff."

And he slips his arm into hers like they've been doing all day, and it feels surprisingly natural for Hiwa. She smiles, leaning into his side, and off they go, towards the dining hall.


	8. Chapter Eight

_A correct answer is like_

_an affectionate kiss._

* * *

"What do we have to lose, on this mission?"

Hiwa blinks her eyes open.

The smell of the blossom tree, sweet and pungent, lingers in her nostrils, even though it's almost twenty feet away. It's enough to make her a bit lightheaded, and her vision swims for a second when she sits up to look at Genma.

He's still laying on his back and staring up at the cloudless sky. She hasn't quite gotten used to seeing the startling green eyes instead of chocolate brown, and that's especially true with how bright they shine in the light, glistening like the way the sun looks when it skates across the surface of a mossy pond.

"Whaddya mean?" she asks.

He gives her a look, almost annoyed but not quite there.

Hiwa sighs. "Like, what are the stakes? For the village?"

"Yeah."

She casts her glance around them. There's nobody. Not a soul crouched between the stout bushes lined up along the grass; the shade beneath the long out of bloom blossom tree is going unappreciated, as is the shaded area provided by the gazebo; and no little kids linger at the edge of the rocks by the pond, watching for fish. They're alone laying on the wooden bridge, the water stretched out underneath them.

No microphones, either. Since seeing the guy with a wire on him, Hiwa's kept a wave disrupter in her pocket. Her thumb runs across the device. It's a little black thing the size of her pinky that shifts the microphone's soundwaves to a frequency that her ears can pick up. To whoever's on the other end of the microphone, it severs their connection to the microphone for however long the interference runs—as long as she's careful about not overusing it, it should get passed off as nothing more than technological glitchiness at work. She's sure technology this new is bound to be finicky, as is.

Her count is up to two microphones right now. One in their floor's hallway and one in the lobby. It took locating them audibly for her to parse out the visual giveaway—a pin-sized hole in the wall, behind which the microphones are hidden.

About what she expects from Kusa ninja.

"Could be nothing," she says. She rubs at her nose. "Could also end in a war."

He stiffens.

Hiwa stretches her arms above her head. Her attention lingers on the blossom tree, the branches a graveyard of dead flowers. "We won't know one way or another until we find out who's bumming around here."

"But if it is Kusa?"

"Depends."

"... on?"

"How they react to us wiping the operation out," she says. "Far as I know, Lord Hokage isn't looking to put us into another war anytime soon. He's seen three—that's more than enough for one lifetime. And Konoha's _still _not over the Third War. He'll hit them with some kind of political repercussions for this before jumping into hostilities."

"But Kusa might escalate to war."

"They might."

"Then… why send two special jonin? Why not send actual jonin?"

She skews her gaze to him. "Would you whip out an S-rank jutsu against a genin?" she counters. "Even if this has a risk of being bigger than they think, it could be nothing. No reason to waste a jonin whose energy could be better spent elsewhere until they know it's needed. Especially because sending a handful of jonin this close to the border could be construed as an act of aggression, as much as anything else."

"Even though _they _have jonin near our borders?"

She laughs wryly. "I never said it was _fair_."

His frown deepens, and she can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. In lieu of a senbon, most likely.

Hiwa pokes her toe into his thigh. "There's nothing wrong with being worried."

"You're not," he says, and it's surprisingly pointed. For Genma, at least. He seems to realize that, too, from the face he pulls as soon as the words leave his mouth.

She gives him a slight grin. "You think?"

"We did nothing, yesterday. And it doesn't look like we're going to do anything today, either."

"That depends on what your definition of 'doing something' is."

He rolls his eyes.

She lays back down beside him. Her arms go behind her head to cushion it, and she stretches her legs out so that her feet hang off the edge of the bridge.

Hiwa closes her eyes, the warmth of the sun bearing down on her. "I'm worried, you know," she says, soft enough that it's almost a whisper. "I'm… so far from ready for another war."

And boy has she ever thought about that possible outcome of this mission. She doubts Jiraiya would send them if he thought it was a _likely _one, but it's something that could happen if Kusa has a bad enough knee-jerk reaction.

Because despite what she told Genma, her gut instinct is that Jiraiya's hunch is spot on—Kusa is sending ninja through this resort to get to Konoha. Which, isn't surprising in and of itself. That the other villages have spies within Fire Country is a given. Every village has eyes and ears all over the place. It's an accepted reality, not considered an offence worth a total breakdown in peace. But even a few justified deaths can spiral out of control _fast _if Kusa is looking for an excuse to escalate.

She can't say one way or another with much certainty because Jiraiya didn't include the information in her scroll. Which is a bad sign. If he isn't sharing, he thinks it's information worth hoarding, and Jiraiya isn't one to send his ninja around inadequately informed without cause.

So, yes. She's worried.

"Then why aren't we scouting right now? We know what the next move is."

"Because two days won't make a difference. Neither will three, or four, or seven, or twenty. These aren't things that happen overnight. If we were on the verge of war like that, they _definitely _wouldn't have sent us. Pushing ourselves ragged trying to get this mission done isn't conducive. We've got three weeks for a reason—we're playing the long game."

He shakes his head. "Seduction is a long game, too. I need to pick my mark early and get to work on establishing a connection. I doubt I'll run into any staff that are looking to have a spur of the moment fling while they're at work."

And Hiwa stews on that.

She's never done any seduction work. She doesn't know what this process is going to look like—lust is lust, so she figured it wouldn't be something that required more than three or four days, maybe five in the worst-case scenario.

"How long do you need?" she asks.

"I won't be able to say until I pick the target. Right now, I need an idea of what I'm working with."

Hiwa sets her arm back over her eyes. They need somewhere that has a large concentration of staff, specifically females. Genma hasn't ruled out seducing the male staff, but statistically, homosexuality and heterosexuality aren't on the same level. The odds are higher that their ideal mark is going to be a woman.

Her lips curl up into a grin. She says, "Then I think I've got an idea."

"What?"

"Sounds like today's the day for us to hit the casino."

.

.

"What even _is _that?"

Hiwa finishes off the eyeliner on her left eye, her hand slow and steady. Most of her other makeup is done. Concealer on her blemishes, eyebrows filled in, blush tapped onto the apples of her cheeks, a veil of glittery eyeshadow all over her lids, and bright red lipstick.

Fire Country and Waterfall Country have relatively similar makeup styles—bright, bold, and unapologetic. It takes way, _way_ more time and effort than she can be bothered to take every day. But the result is fun enough.

She holds the mirror back a bit and leans to change the angle. "It's supposed to be a kimono."

"It's… short. And has ruffles."

She starts in on her other eye. Through pursed lips, most of her attention honed in on not screwing up and making a mess of the rest of her makeup, she mumbles, "You bet it does."

A soft set of footsteps approach the vanity and pause behind her.

Satisfied, she sets down the eyeliner brush and digs through her disastrously stained makeup bag for her mascara. Something tugs at her sleeve.

She turns to look at Genma and sees him holding the knee-length sleeve in his hands, more confused than offended.

"You gotta admit, it's pretty cute."

"Do I?"

"I'm just a silly girl from Waterfall who lived all her life in the docks and never had the chance to wear something fun and cute," she says in a pitched-up voice, still digging through her bag. "I saw the frills and the cute pink blossom design and I just _had _to go with it!"

Genma snorts. "Is that what we're going with?"

"Yep."

"I wonder if they make something like this for men," he says, and she can hear the laughter in his voice.

"I didn't see any. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if _somebody _does, but they're probably nowhere near as common. It's less profitable to fetishize men's fashion." She sees the little black tube at the bottom of the mess and pulls it out with a triumphant, "Hah!"

He makes a face. "This kind of kimono is common?"

"Outside of Fire Country? Sort of. Most people don't realize how much of a bastardization they are of actual kimono, and just think they're fun to wear." She shrugs. "I don't get it either. But it is what it is."

He makes a noncommittal noise and plops down on the bench beside her.

She can smell the earthy combination of his aftershave and shower soap wafting off of him, but she doesn't mind it. The smell's gotten familiar, over the last week.

"What're you planning on doing while I gamble?" she asks.

"I'll probably keep an eye on the room. See if I can spot somebody I can pursue as a target. A lot of the female staff are probably going to be in there, serving food and keeping the men around as long as possible."

Mid mascara application, she pauses. "You've worked a casino."

"I've done some civilian infiltration, remember?" He sticks his hair tie in his mouth and gathers up his hair. "Besides," he says around the tie, "I think everybody does some kind of work in a casino at least once in their career."

"True."

"Are you doing any work while we're down there?"

Hiwa sticks the mascara wand back into the tube and twists it shut. "Not on your life. Getting all this on is work enough—my reward is that I get to go clean out some wallets."

He makes a vaguely disapproving sound, and Hiwa chooses to ignore that.

Stiff from having spent the last hour getting herself ready, she turns on the bench to stretch out, her arms above her head and her legs out so that her knees lock up. In the corner of her eye, she catches the way Genma stares at her foot.

Specifically her right, with its smooth red crescent-shaped scar along the top of it.

She wiggles it at him. "Looking at something?"

But Genma just shakes his head and leaves her sitting alone on the bench, probably to go and get changed. "Nothing."

Hiwa rolls her eyes but lets it slide. "Try and wear something pink, yeah? It'd be cute if we could match."

"I'll see what I can do."

.

.

The first thing Hiwa realizes once they walk into the casino that evening is that there are more microphones in this one room than the entire rest of the resort.

At least four, maybe five.

Combined with the raucous noise already in the casino, she has to fight off a wince at how the feedback makes her ears ring. She slides her hand into the pocket of her kimono and flicks the device off with her thumb, covering the movement by removing her fan on the way out.

She runs her fingers over the silky blue folds of the fan. "You ever get good at opening these things?" she asks Genma.

He's busy scanning the area, but at her words, his gaze snaps back to her.

"Never tried before."

Hiwa grins, and it's all sharp points and glee. "No time like the present."

She holds out her hand. The fan sits in her palm, a thin string hanging off the handle. Genma makes no move to take it from her.

"Come on," she says. "It's not too bad."

"This feels like a trap."

"You've got me—I'm trying to trick you into throwing away your pride."

"Pass."

With a deft flick of her wrist, the fan unfolds. She holds it in front of her face to cover up her smug grin and waves it a few times, and the air jostles her delicate curls.

Genma looks like he's considering it, but he shakes his head and goes back to canvassing the room.

Hiwa slips her free hand into his and leads him over to her first table of the night. It's one of the smaller tables, with two other people playing some card games. The dealer gives her a dubious look as she takes her seat and both of the other inhabitants look thrilled to have her there, and Hiwa slips her fan back into her kimono as per regulations and settles in.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hiwa catches sight of a blonde woman settled in at a table for mahjong. The same blonde woman who was watching them out in the gardens, a few days ago.

The woman doesn't in any way indicate she's paying attention to Hiwa. But, ever the paranoid infiltrationist, Hiwa makes a mental note to avoid ending up anywhere near her for the rest of the night. Just in case.

"Would you like me to deal you in, miss?" the dealer asks.

The man to Hiwa's right laughs. "Another unfortunate soul," he says. He's an older man, with a kindly smile and deep crow's feet. "Care to join an old man in his misery, eh?"

Hiwa puts on her best demure smile and says, "I'd like to give it a try."

.

.

Genma's mother always taught him that the ninja to fear weren't the ones who went around slinging A-rank and S-rank jutsu without breaking a sweat—she said it was the quiet ones that you had to watch for.

Flashy jutsu announce themselves; they're the death you see coming. But it's the ones who work in plain sight that get you, more often than not. That girl you went to see a movie with, the waiter at the restaurant, the random soul wandering out in the park as you go for a stroll.

He thinks that's why he ended up in assassination and seduction. His mother, an infiltrationist herself, encouraged him to work his strengths and play it smart.

There's a chorus of groans from the table as the dealer hands over a borderline offensive amount of chips to Hiwa, who takes them with a dubious look that every single man at the table is buying hook, line, and sinker.

His mother would have liked Hiwa.

She turns a wide-eyed doe look to Genma. "Should I keep going?" she asks him.

"Please don't," one of the men grunts. His attention goes to Genma, too. "For all our sake, why don't ya leash your wife and get her out of here, eh?"

Genma feels himself instantly on the defensive. The man said it with a grin and what Genma suspects is meant to be good nature. Hiwa giggles in response and the other men seated chuckle, and that solidifies to Genma that yes, the guy does mean it as a joke.

But Genma doesn't think it was funny.

He feels his insides crawl a bit, but he forces himself to crack a grin. "Sounds like it's time to cut the men some slack, dear."

Hiwa sticks out her lower lip in a pout and Genma rolls his eyes.

"You're no fun," she says.

The dealer rounds up her winnings and hands them over to her, and Hiwa slips it into her bag with the rest of her chips. If Genma's tally is right, she's got the equivalent of both their pay for this mission sitting in that bag, and it's only been an hour and a half.

A handful of the men watch her go, more than a few with their eyes in less than polite places, and Genma makes himself keep up his canvassing of the staff rather than think about it anymore.

He expects her to drag him to another table, or at least to the attendant where she can cash the chips in, but she instead pulls him into the hallway near the bathrooms. It stretches out into a hallway of private rooms. A handful of doors near the entrance have laughter and the stench of alcohol filtering out underneath them, but as they weave through the hallway a bit, the noises grow silent and the air returns to its more usual stale musk.

Right near the end, she tests the knob of one of the doors. When it doesn't give, she slips a couple of pins out of her hair and jiggles them in the lock until he hears it click open. She pushes the door aside and gestures Genma inside. As he goes in, she heads back down the hallway and unlocks another four or five doors, then she follows him in, too, and shuts the door behind them.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Plausible deniability," she says. "If there's a handful of doors unlocked, looks more like somebody was in here cleaning, or something, and forgot to lock them properly."

"Right."

It looks like they're in a private gambling room of some kind. There's a bar off on one side and three separate gambling tables scattered around the room. One looks like it's for dice games, another for card games, and the third is entirely unfamiliar to Genma—some kind of tile game, maybe.

Genma finds himself leant back against one of the card tables, his arms crossed over his chest.

Hiwa drops the bag of chips onto the ground.

She sets her hands on her hips, head tilted to the side, and her gaze roves up and down his form. "Any luck with finding a mark?" she asks.

"There's two I think might work. One of the women serving the weird little meat skewers. She works in the dining area, as well, so it'll be easy to maintain contact with her and escalate. The other was one of the cleaners—I saw her picking up trash. I've seen her in the hallway, so I think she might be the one who cleans our room, too."

"That's good, right?"

He frowns. "Yeah."

"Then why are you bothered?"

Genma remembers what she said the other night and has to think over how he wants to approach this. He settles on, "Nothing for you to worry about."

That, at least, isn't a lie.

"Too late," she says. "What's wrong?"

He sighs. "Hiwa."

She purses her lips. One of her hands comes up to tug at a curl of her hair, hanging down like a halo of chocolate-coloured silk around her.

"We can go to the dining area tonight," she says. "They're normally open this late, to hit up the drunken gamblers. She might not be…" Hiwa shakes her head. "No, that's not it."

Genma forces the tension out of his shoulders and keeps his voice carefully neutral when he says, "It doesn't matter."

He can see from the set of her mouth that she's not satisfied with his answer, but he doesn't know what else to say to her.

How can he explain that every time one of the men made a crude, demeaning comment about her, he felt something cold and hard settle in his gut like a rock?

He knew there would be comments like this, and she did, too. It's a part of the job. He's been on missions before where _he _has been on the other end of this, the one getting the lewd and disrespectful comments, and he batted them away with a coy grin. He knows that any ninja who can't handle it won't put themselves in that position in the first place.

Besides that, she can take care of herself—he'd said as much himself a few days ago. And he's not blind to how she's reacted whenever he's tried to do these kinds of things. She doesn't need him, of all people, getting up in arms for her.

"It _does _matter. If you're bothered, that's something that matters," she says. His shoulders stiffen and she raises her hand. "But if it's not at a detriment to the mission, I won't push."

"It's not."

She nods, slowly. "Alright."

He can't get a read on what she's thinking. A bit frustrated, maybe. But her expression is otherwise shuttered away.

She stoops down to pick up her bag of chips and freezes.

Genma goes on high alert, hands ready to grab at the senbon hidden inside the folds of his kimono. "What is it?"

She straightens. She turns towards him and murmurs a soft, "Sorry."

That's all the warning Genma gets before she steps right into his space and presses her lips up to his. From the way her lips move, he gets the distinct impression that she's not particularly experienced—or, at the very least, she's rusty. The kiss is stiff from how closed her mouth is, and the rhythm she's trying to set is unsteady.

On instinct, he takes the lead. One of his arms circles her waist, his grip firm, and the other cups the back of her head. He covers her lips with his and sets the pace.

Like two dancers in the ballroom, she melts into him and falls in step to follow his lead. She focuses on what her hands are doing, instead, as she fumbles with the fabric on his shoulder, trying to push it down, and her other hand pulls his hair loose and musses it. He goes to step away, hit by a wave of confusion now that the situation has had the chance to catch up with him—they're making out, and it's as messy and sloppy as his hookups from when he was fresh out of puberty—and she leans into him in response.

The door swings open just as Hiwa gets his shoulder bare.

"What—_oh_."

Hiwa jumps away from him like a kid caught with her hand in the candy jar, and Genma understands exactly what just happened. She shoots him a sheepish look. The way grins at her in response, cocky and smug and satisfied at the very real flush in her cheeks, is more genuine than he expects.

The man who opened the door on the two of them stands straight shouldered and uncomfortable in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Sorry," Hiwa says, her chest heaving. "We, uh—"

"How did you get in here?" the man asks.

"The… door was open?"

The man looks physically pained, with an 'I don't get paid enough for this' expression plastered on his face. "I'm going to have to ask you to cash in your winnings and return to your suite, please. These rooms are off-limits—it should not have been unlocked."

"Yes—yes, of course!"

"Very good. If I do not see you back out on the casino floor in two minutes, I will send in security to retrieve you.

"Right. Yes."

The door closes once again.

Genma turns to Hiwa, grin still in place. She blinks at him.

After a second, she says, "Shut up." As if trying to regain her bearings, she shakes her head. "Seriously, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be. It worked."

And if Genma's honest with himself, he didn't mind the kiss one bit, even if she's far from the best partner he's ever had.

Which happens to have him quite worried, now.

It's not that he ever really _minds _physical contact for missions. He meant it when he said that there's nothing he hasn't done for a mission. But something about that kiss felt like it was a little bit more than just 'for the mission'.

Worse, he's not sure what to make of Hiwa's reaction, the way that as soon as the staff left the room, she went quiet. She mentioned not wanting him to do anything crude—did deepening the kiss like that count?

He thought that her reaction was good. It felt like she was eager, too.

But now he's unsure. Maybe he shouldn't have taken charge, like that. Because what Hiwa started was a facsimile at a kiss—two lips pressed together, moving a bit. Genma was the one who turned it into something more.

"Good," she says. "Okay."

"I wonder what he thinks we need those two minutes for," Genma says, testing the waters.

He's not sure what to make of the fact that Hiwa's face somehow gets brighter. "_Kami_."

So, he takes her hand and leads them back out to the casino.

.

.

Hiwa's in a daze as Genma leads her through the hallways, his fingers intertwined with hers.

_It's the adrenaline_, she thinks to herself. That's why her head's a bit light, and her skin is all warm and tingly like she's being sprayed with water that's a smidge too hot. _It's been a long day, so I'm emotionally exhausted, too. Once we get back to the room and I get a good night's sleep, I'll be back to normal._

So she doesn't put much more thought into it.

It'll be fine tomorrow morning.

* * *

A/N: ;)


	9. Chapter Nine

_The heart wants what the heart wants._

* * *

Still half asleep, Hiwa shoves a heavily buttered bun into her mouth as Genma walks into their room.

He's fully dressed and ready for the day, his hair pulled into a bun and dressed in the usual plain navy kimono that he's been wearing as his everyday clothes. Not that she's complaining because it suits him.

Hiwa shakes herself.

She grabs her coffee and takes a sip, hoping the caffeine will wake her up a bit more. Morning brain—seriously lacking priorities.

"Morning," he says.

She comes as close to waving at him as she can. "Hi."

"When did you get up?"

"Few minutes?" she mumbles around her food. "Thanks for calling in breakfast for me."

He shrugs.

Hiwa runs a hand through her unbrushed hair and winces as her fingers catch on a couple of knots.

"How was—" Realizing that her words aren't coming out very clearly with her mouth this full, Hiwa shoves the rest of the bun into her mouth and swallows. "How was breakfast? I'm guessing you went into the dining area to get a jump on scouting."

Genma pulls a face.

"That good?"

"I don't think she's going to work," he says. "She wasn't receptive. At all. No interest, no response when I was trying to flirt. I'll go alone to dinner tonight, too. If there's some improvement, breakfast tomorrow morning. But I don't think she'll be willing to do anything."

Hiwa nods. She rips off a chunk of bacon with her teeth and wolfs it down. "And if not her, then the cleaner?"

"Yeah."

"I might be able to help with the cleaner, actually."

Genma stops, his senbon midway to his mouth, and slowly turns to look at her in what she can only describe as skeptical disbelief. Hiwa rolls her eyes, even though for some reason, she can feel a hint of a flush crawling up her neck.

"Kami, not like that," she says. "I have pheromone candles and incense sticks laced with pheromones."

His eyebrow goes up. "I'm not sure that's helping your case."

"For _you_ to use on _her_."

"Go on."

Hiwa drops her bacon onto her plate and goes to wipe her fingers on her sleeve when she remembers the napkin beside her plate. Like the civilized person she is, she uses the napkin.

"The easiest way to interact with the cleaner is to just be in the room when she comes, one time. You could even start today. Both of us at first, to put her at ease, and then tomorrow I'll leave you alone with her. The pheromone candles will, you know, get her attracted to you. Not that I think you need the help."

He grins at her. "Cause you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes, because I think you're pretty."

Her chest and neck get a little bit warmer, and if she could see them, right now, she knows they'd be red. This body and its lack of melanin will be the death of her, leaving her susceptible to such an easy tell like blushing. That was never something she had to worry about before.

Hiwa clears her throat. "If you use it each time she comes in, give it a few days and her body will naturally associate you with physical attraction."

"Uh-huh."

"It'll probably affect you too, which I mean. If that's going to bother you—"

"I think I can take care of it," he says dryly.

Hiwa makes a face.

Information she didn't need. That's not an image she ever—

A spike of pure, unadulterated panic runs through Hiwa because _oh my God_, she _doesn't _want to imagine that. Right?

She can admit that Genma is an attractive man. That's been clear to her from the very start. But that doesn't mean that she is actually attracted to him. She's _not _attracted to him.

She's… not.

_Right?_

Hiwa feels her entire body go cold like somebody injected liquid nitrogen into her veins.

No.

She was supposed to wake up and be over this. This was not supposed to follow her to this morning, not when there's no adrenaline in her veins and she's had the chance to recover from the emotionally-heavy conversations yesterday.

Her hormones are _not _allowed to betray her mid-mission like this. It was one kiss and okay, yeah, maybe he's the first person she's kissed in the last, oh, year or so. And sure, it _did _feel pretty nice, when he held her waist and cupped her head like she was something to lose, like she might float away if he didn't hold onto her tightly enough, and he _definitely _was a really good kisser. Maybe the best she's ever—

Hiwa shoves a bite of eggs into her mouth and shuts that line of thought down stone-cold. Then, she drains the rest of her coffee. It burns going down. She doesn't care, though. Maybe she's not awake enough yet, and the caffeine can wash whatever this is out of her system.

Genma watches her eat with a raised eyebrow. "I'll probably go with that idea, actually. I've been watching the cleaner's schedules and she'll probably start on our floor within the next half an hour, or so. Might as well test the waters today and see how it goes."

Hiwa nods and takes another bite of her breakfast, hoping that all of this infiltration training has gone to good use and that her movements _don't _betray the internal crisis currently raging on inside of her head.

"Though I do have to ask: why do you have pheromone candles?"

Mechanically, she says, "Jiraiya outfits all of his ninja with them, among some other basic infiltration supplies. They're not an end all be all—but they work as a bit of a push in the right direction. I've never actually used them before. They've just been sealed in my bag for the last, like, two years."

"Sealed into your bag?"

Grateful for the distraction, Hiwa moves her breakfast onto the bedside table and holds out her hand. Genma tosses her bag to her. She unzips the front pocket. A few stray socks and her underwear fall out, and Hiwa tosses them over onto Genma's side of the bed for the time being.

She sticks her finger into the pouch, something like what backpacks have for storing pencils, and adds a bit of chakra. The seal by her fingertips releases and it triggers the rest of the seals lining the edge of the pocket, and the entire thing pops off the bag. A bookmarked-sized white tag laden with a storage seal floats downwards.

She easily reattaches the pocket and waves the bag around.

"Jiraiya?" Genma asks.

"Nope—this one was all me." She grins. It's one of her prouder ideas. "It was inspired by the prosthetics for my cheeks. Seeing that with tight enough seal work, you can create a seamless attachment. I thought that it would be a smart way to keep things hidden."

"All that for pheromone candles."

She rolls her eyes, and this time she keeps the blush from her face as she hands her bag and the storage seal over to him. "And emergency medical supplies."

"Priorities."

"Also, please don't pull them out around me. I unsealed the bag with them by accident once and it was one of the worst experiences in my life," she says. Her nose scrunches. Genma's face does something weird that she only half catches. She doesn't see anywhere near enough to bother trying to decipher it, especially not this early in the morning, so she says, "I'm not kidding."

He twists the senbon around in his mouth. "Yeah, got it."

"Good. Now, more important matters."

"What?"

She holds out her plate to him. "Want a bun? I don't think I can finish."

He gives her a crooked grin, one that warms the pit of her stomach—no, stop it, you aren't allowed to react like that every single time he grins, _abort, abort, abort!_—and snags the remaining western-style bun. "I'll do my duty as your mission partner, then, and take it off your hands."

"My hero," she says.

Genma scoffs and takes a bite out of it. "Huh," he says around a full mouth. "That's pretty good."

"I think the only time bread tastes _bad _is if you burn it."

"Fair."

.

.

Hiwa's curled up with her book in bed, a handful of pillows stacked behind her to provide optimal cushion, when the cleaner lets herself into their room.

It's been half an hour.

She's had half an hour to work her way around this, wherein she acted like she was reading and Genma was too busy staring up at the ceiling to notice that she was barely flipping the pages in her book.

She came to a conclusion, in that half an hour.

She is, in fact, attracted to Shiranui Genma. But she is attracted to Shiranui Genma because she is currently in the body of a seventeen-year-old female, and the body of a seventeen-year-old female is full of hormones. It's a biological fact. The bodies that don't have this kind of sex drive are the exception, not the norm, and she doesn't fall into that category.

So it is not Genma she is attracted to, per se—her meat sac is attracted to his meat sac because as mentioned, it's been an entire _year _since she had any form of romantic physical contact with another human being and her body is starved. It's reacting like any starved thing does, in that the second something even remotely edible is present, the primal urge is to _lunge_.

That's all this is. Her body's natural biological reaction.

She _does not _have a _crush _on the man who she married under the pretense of _not _having any kind of romantic relationship, and who is her current mission partner. Her meat sac simply finds his meat sac physically attractive.

And having come to this conclusion, Hiwa finds her shoulders can loosen again, and she slips right back into business as usual.

She makes herself wait a few seconds to mimic the usual civilian reaction times. _One_, _two_, and her eyes dart up towards the door. Genma, laid out across the foot of the bed, lets his arm flop off his eyes around the same time.

The cleaner is a mousy little thing. Long black hair, eyes so brown they're borderline black, and a slight frame. Definitely a Fire Country native. Maybe a local girl from the village?

The cleaner squeaks and grips her cart with a white-knuckled grip when she notices them. "Oh. Ah, oh, man I'm so sorry! I didn't even knock. The two of you aren't normally in your room right now, so I figured I could just come in. I'm really sorry!"

Hiwa laughs.

She looks a bit like a kid sneaking in after curfew and finding their parents sitting on the couch waiting for them. Despite her sheepishness, her posture doesn't convey much of that apology. She just looks startled and confused, with a hint of nervousness, from the wide eyes and the way she's angling herself to leave the room already, before Hiwa and Genma have even had a chance to respond. Her fight or flight has already kicked on.

Hiwa notices something funny, too—the way the cleaner's eyes rove around the room, categorizing, examining, and that they linger on their luggage. She's pretty sure that if they weren't in the room right now, those bags would have been rummaged through.

"You're fine," Genma says, sitting up. "We just decided to take the morning to relax."

"Ah. Alright. Well, uh. I'll come back later?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. You can just clean around us."

"Uhm. If you're… sure?"

Hiwa finds it hard to take the resistance one way or another. Her instant gut reaction is that of course, she wants them out of the room because when they're there she can't snoop. But the logical, non-ninja part of her brain remembers that it's probably a pain in the ass to clean around two people, and only cleaning the empty rooms is standard protocol.

"It's fine," Hiwa says, sparing Genma a bland look and then smiling at the cleaner. "As long as you don't mind us getting in your way, a bit."

The girl's smile tightened. "That's no problem!"

Off she scurries into their bathroom, and the sounds of scrubbing soon follow.

Hiwa settles back in with her book, having earned her chance to let go of the reins. This is out of her jurisdiction. Genma's the one who gets to work, now.

He lifts his arm, as if to look at something, and stop. He moves his sleeve up a bit. "Hey, Kokona?" he asks.

Hiwa hums.

"You seen my watch?"

Not looking up from her book, she says, "Vanity?"

Genma cranes his neck. "Don't see it."

Hiwa lets out another noncommittal hum and turns the page of her book.

He hauls himself up off of the bed and wanders towards the bathroom. "Hey, er. Sorry, what was your name?"

The sounds of scrubbing stop. "Uh. Saki. My name's Saki, Mr. Murai."

Genma scoffs. He takes a step into the bathroom and leans his hip against the counter. "Oh, Kami. Mr. Murai is my dad—just call me Shin."

"That's… ah. Alright. Mr. Shin."

"Close enough." Genma sighs. "Any chance you've seen a watch yet, Saki?"

"I'm afraid I haven't."

"Damn. I wonder if I left it in the casino, last night."

Hiwa hears a bit more interest in Saki's voice when she says, "Oh, dear. I hope you haven't lost it."

"Dad's gonna kill me if I did," Genma mutters. He clears his throat. "Well. Can you keep an eye out for it? And maybe check around to see if one's been turned in?"

"I—yeah, of course. I can do that for you."

She can't make out what he's doing, but he leans down, and she hears Saki laugh, awkward and breathy. And when Genma moves out of the way, Hiwa catches the sight of a bright red face and wide eyes. Hiwa presses her book to her face to keep from laughing.

_Relatable_, she thinks. _At least I'm not the only one._

"Thanks, Saki."

With that, Genma settles himself back on the foot of the bed. He spares Hiwa a wink.

Hiwa mime-claps for him, not wanting to make any noise, and it's only a little mocking because this entire situation aside, she has to admit, she's impressed by his showing. In a thirty-second conversation, he got them on a first-name basis _and _established a through-line for further communication.

Once Saki finishes up cleaning in the bathroom, Genma hops back up off the bed.

He holds his hand out to Hiwa, and when she sighs and flops further into the bed, it's only a little melodramatic. While Hiwa thinks she's gotten herself into a more rational state of mind about all of this, she's not ready for physical contact with him. That's at least another few hours away, for her.

Genma rolls his eyes. "Come on. We oughta get out of her way."

She slides her bookmark into place, eyes his hand, and takes her book and gently whaps his hand away, getting up of her own volition.

Saki watches the interaction with curious eyes. Genma shoots her a wink that brings a pretty blush to her cheeks, more pink than the bright red one from before.

She feels a hand on the small of her back and Genma starts to usher her out of the room. Tingles run up and down her spine.

Once they're alone in the hallway, he turns to her with a smug grin. "So?"

He hasn't moved his hand.

Hiwa smiles. "Smooth."

And she doesn't step away because the last thing she wants is for him to think that there's anything different going on, now.

They have to get through this mission. And to get through this mission, they need to be in physical contact like this. They're the happy couple. All cute and affectionate. She can't go making that awkward and put their cover in jeopardy just because her body's decided it has plans of its own.

But she thinks Genma might catch something in her face anyway because, despite the typical quip and smile, he drops his hand and steps away with a nod.

_Great._

"To the garden?" she asks.

"Sure."

.

.

Hiwa only makes it a few hours before she finally asks, "Even though this didn't go well for me last night, I'm gonna ask again: what's wrong?"

Genma frowns. "I think I should be asking you that."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

Hiwa closes her eyes and counts down from five, her face hidden behind her book. "Be a little more specific."

They're in the same secluded part of the garden as yesterday afternoon. It's one of the few places Hiwa feels like they can speak frankly without having any concern about staff or guests or microphones.

"Are you alright with what happened last night?"

"What?" she asks, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Genma pulls the book out of her hands. She doesn't bother trying to hold onto it—it was a rude thing to do in the first place, and even feeling flustered as she does, she should know better than to play games like that.

He sets it aside, then settles with one of his elbows rested on his knee and his chin in his palm. "Because you're acting weird. Maybe I'm reading your signals wrong, but something's not adding up."

There's a tension in his shoulders and he's chewing on his senbon and he's drumming his fingers against his thigh.

Hiwa sighs. She closes her eyes again and shakes her head. "You didn't do anything wrong. Aside from the fact that I'm the one who initiated, all you did was make it more convincing. You didn't stomp on any boundaries. You'd have broken ribs right now if you did, remember?"

She's hoping for a laugh, and she doesn't get it.

"Okay," he says. "So?"

"It's…" She frowns, not wanting to lie but not ready to spill all of this. Then she remembers her own words from yesterday. "It's nothing detrimental to the mission."

And it feels a bit manipulative, really, and there's a pang of guilt that runs through her at that, but she's determined for that to be the truth. While she's been known to take risks and jump through loopholes to keep her ideals intact, she'd rather eat poison than screw up a mission over something fleeting like her emotions, especially a mission as important as this.

She'll table whatever this is. She's a Konoha ninja, and right now, she has a job to do, as does Genma.

Hopefully, by the time she gets back to the village this will have sorted itself out and they can settle back into whatever comfortable dynamic they'd had before. And if—a big if, the _biggest_ if—it doesn't, then she'll deal with it when she's not working the mission that could very well go down in the history books as the thing that sparks the Fourth Ninja War.

"Nothing detrimental to the mission," Genma echoes.

"Yep," she says. "Don't worry about it. Please. It's just a 'me' problem, I'll deal with it. Won't get in the way of the mission."

He frowns at her like she's entirely missed the point of the conversation, and she'll wholeheartedly admit that she swerved around the point like it was a pile of shit in the middle of the sidewalk.

So she reaches over and pats him on the arm. "It's alright," she says. "Seriously. Sorry that I freaked you out and confused you."

And for a second, she's scared that he won't let it go. That he'll ask her again, run ahead and try to build that bridge for her.

But he lays back down on the grass and gives her a lazy smile. "Down to walk that trail that couple from earlier was talking about? Tonight's supposed to be nice and cool. And it'll give us a good chance to get our bearings on the surroundings since we couldn't run perimeter when we got here."

And she'll be far enough from the resort to check in with Rei, which she's sure he knows, too.

Hiwa smiles, and it's comfortable and easy. "Sounds like a plan."

She'll make this work.

If she could make it through the hell on earth that was the Third Ninja War, then she can make it through a few weeks being slightly turned on by her mission partner.


	10. Chapter Ten

_To be trusted is a greater_

_compliment than being loved._

* * *

"A village tour?"

"A village tour."

"Canvassing?"

"Yep. I want to get some information about the relationship between the villagers and the resort. Make sure loyalties are where they should be, that there's nothing fishy going on with the grain trade, all of that. It's not _exactly _necessary for this mission, but since I'm in the area I think Jiraiya would appreciate me getting the information."

He nods. He's sat cross-legged on the mat between the foot of the bed and the bathroom, his senbon spread out around him. Hiwa's curled up in the armchair off to his right.

"When we leaving?"

"It's an evening tour. They've got a place booked for the whole group to go to dinner. You won't miss your afternoon appointment, don't worry."

Genma snorts and swipes the whetstone against his senbon.

Hiwa flips the page of her book—she's starting to get near the end. Which is concerning. The main pairing isn't even close to together, yet. They're dancing around each other like a couple of skittish cats and she has no idea how they're possibly going to end up together. Her gut says that they're either going to get pushed together in an unsatisfying way, or the book isn't going to end how she assumed it will.

Her mouth twists and she stares down at the book.

"Bad book?"

"Maybe." Hiwa takes a deep breath and turns to the last chapter of the book.

She skims it, her frown growing deeper the longer she goes, and as she gets to the last page she takes the book and tosses it onto the bed. "Bad book," Hiwa mutters. "Ugh."

She'll never understand why authors feel the need to traumatize and destroy their female characters, all so that the male lead can swoop in last minute, gallant and brave, and save the girl. Or, worse, _not _save the girl and live out the rest of their lives as a destroyed tragedy, with the girl they loved as some kind of ghost that haunts them for the rest of their lives rather than getting a chance to _be their own character_.

Hiwa huffs and throws herself over the chair, her legs splayed on one arm and her back arched over the other.

_Barf_.

"Rough," Genma says.

Sighing, she says, "Yeah."

"You got something else to read?"

"No."

He stops. "I thought you packed like, four books."

"I did."

"We've been here a week."

She shrugs.

"I should have expected that." His eyes skate over to the clock. The senbon clicks against his teeth as he chews on it. "You can probably grab one from that store on the bottom level of the resort. They had books, I think. Something to do while Saki's here."

It takes her a second, but her mind does eventually supply an image of the store. They passed it on their first day when they were getting their bearings.

Hiwa hums noncommittally. "Maybe. What time is it?"

"Noon. You've got another hour or two."

She might as well get a smoke in before she leaves, then. She scopes around for her pack. When her search comes up empty, she turns onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, a frown on her face.

Where did she put it? The last time she smoked was yesterday, around this time. She remembers having about the same thought process when she pulled it out. So she probably would have hidden her pack, then, so that when Saki got here it wouldn't be anywhere obvious. In one of the bedside tables, maybe?

Something lands on her stomach and Hiwa looks down at it. Her pack.

"Oh," she says. "Thanks."

Genma waves a hand and goes back to sharpening his senbon on the floor.

Shaking the pack a bit to loosen them, Hiwa tips one of the cigarettes out onto her hands and lights it with a snap of her fingers and the barest breath of chakra that has sparks dancing between her fingers like they're made of stone.

It's an easy trick that some random Konoha nin taught her during the war when she was eleven after she saw him do it and asked him to show her. He was a Nara, she thinks, not much older than her. She never saw him again—she wonders if he's still alive.

Hiwa can sense Genma's gaze lingering on her. She hears the gentle tap, tap, tap of his teeth against the senbon in his mouth. It's soft. From what she gathered, he's aware enough of the habit that he'll take steps to stop from doing it, sometimes, when he's trying to keep his tells under wraps, but he can't seem to keep from performing the habit entirely.

"Why do you always do that?"

His jaw locks in place and the tapping stops. He raises an eyebrow, because yeah, Hiwa can admit that that's about as vague and useless a question as she can ask.

"You stare at me like that when you have a question that you're not asking. Why do you always wait for me to initiate before asking?"

He picks up one of his senbon and flips it around in the air. "Because basic manners indicate that asking extremely personal questions to people you haven't known for much time at all is inappropriate."

"We're married," Hiwa says. "I don't think the relationship we have could be considered anything conventional enough for that to matter. I don't mind if you stick your nose in my business, otherwise I wouldn't have ever let you ask in the first place."

"It's not about conventionality. I just tend to do for people what I'd want them to do for me."

His jaw tightens and his lips thin and Hiwa thinks that he probably didn't recognize the full reading of that statement until it was already out of his mouth. The 'I don't butt into your business because I don't want you in mine' is about as hidden as the Wizard from _The Wizard of Oz_. There's a curtain for propensity's sake, but it's right there in the middle of the room and there's only one thing that can be behind it.

Hiwa gets it. She does. She's not generally one to want people asking her too many questions, either. And she's gone out of her way to not pry into his business too much, aside from the odd blunder here and there.

But she's lying if she says that hearing it doesn't sting a little.

Not that it really should. Her messy feelings and the uniqueness of their situation doesn't change the fact that they've only known each other for a couple of weeks, now. And while they've spent those two weeks basically in each other's presence twenty-four-seven, it's still only two weeks. She shouldn't expect him to be an open book for her.

And she's glad that he doesn't try and backtrack, claiming he didn't mean what he said. Because they both know he did. Acting otherwise would be an insult to both of them.

So she forces a small smile and says, "And I'm telling you, you're allowed to ask. I'll let you know if it's out of line, trust me. I'm a big girl."

"It's not meant as a slight against you."

"I know. You're kind, more than most people I know," she says. Her grin dries into something more mordant. "But intent doesn't always equal result."

He rubs his thumb up and down the senbon, and he presses down on it, his knuckles white.

She lets him stew while she sits there with her legs still dangled off the side of the chair and smokes her cigarette, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Finally, he asks, "When did you start smoking?"

"When I was thirteen," she says. "Right near the end of the war. Some mission I was on in Wind Country. It was shitty. A guy offered me a cigarette, and I smoked it, hoping it would help me blend in with the group. And turns out it just…" She trails off, waving her hand with the cigarette around vaguely.

What she doesn't mention is that after a year spent in Wind Country, she was worn down. Day in and day out, haunted by that old life she had, up until that point, been able to more easily rationalize as some kind of weird fever dream. Something that was always out of her grasp until Wind Country, where the longer she spent around something so familiar the more she began to remember until parts of that old life were as clear as the sand at her feet and the sun in the sky.

Surprisingly, that weighs the mind down.

It didn't help that she spent the year grieving Hiro, and that right before she left for that mission, she had to find out about Shiro's passing in a four-sentence letter, delivered by some random chunin messenger.

She was hurting. She was confused.

And she found one little smoke left her mind a bit clearer and her shoulders a bit looser when nothing else seemed to help. Enough that the habit stuck around. She wouldn't go so far as to say she's addicted—she's quit cold turkey before for more than a few missions, and she knows if the chips were down, she could do it again in a heartbeat. But otherwise? It's a nasty little habit that hangs around.

"Tends to stick with you," he says.

"It does."

She wonders if he's speaking from experience. She doesn't voice that, though. Not now.

Realizing that she's done with the conversation—and wanting some quality time alone with nothing but a book and silence to keep her company—she gets up and smothers her cigarette in the bathroom sink. She flicks the fan on her way out.

"I'll get out of your hair," she says, digging through her bag for her pouch of money. "Probably go find something to read."

"Yeah, alright. I'll come find you as soon as she leaves."

.

.

Genma spits his senbon into the door as soon as it closes. He rubs his thumb against the bridge of his nose and hisses out a sigh.

Why can't he just get this right?

_And why do I care so much if I do?_

.

.

Hiwa finds the store on the bottom floor of the resort that Genma was talking about after fifteen minutes of wandering.

It's a cute little thing, with the usual trinkets littered around the place. Teacups with the name of the village and the resort imprinted on them, decorative coasters, pencils, stationary. Little towels embossed with the resort's name. Some things don't change, even between worlds.

After longer than she'd like to admit spent admiring the endearingly tacky tourist bait, she does stumble her way into the book section. It doesn't disappoint. There are a full two aisles of books and magazines, and Hiwa gets to browsing with no particular rush.

The bell indicating another customer has entered the store dings, and Hiwa hears the person behind the counter call out a welcome. A female voice answers.

She flicks her gaze towards the entrance and sees a familiar blonde woman dressed in a casual lilac-coloured kimono floating through the store. That catches Hiwa's attention. She won't say alarm bells ring in her head at it—more like one of those tiny hand-held bells that butlers in movies always carried with them.

Coming across the same person twice? To be expected. Coming across the same person thrice? A smidge more suspect, especially when there's a very real chance that by this point, their enemy might have figured out Konoha's game and be on the lookout for spies.

Hiwa grabs herself four new projects to devour from the romance section and heads towards the front counter. Blondie doesn't acknowledge Hiwa's presence.

Human nature has people looking up when another person walks past them—it's a survival tactic that retained its use, even though humanity's evolution. It's the instinct that has your head turn when you hear a new voice, or glance up from your phone when you're walking along if a pair of feet enter your line of sight. Basic situational awareness.

Deliberately avoiding acknowledgement like that is a sign that whoever is there wants to seem disinterested and indifferent to Hiwa's presence.

There's the little bell again, jingling in her mind.

_Great_.

She pays for her books with a smile on her face and heads off to the gardens.

Time to go about her day and wait to see if three meetings become four.

.

.

"Hello, dear," are the first words to leave Hiwa's mouth when Genma sits down beside her.

She sees the way Genma slows his steps, his eyes darting around. She pats the ground beside her with a pleasant smile.

"Hey," he says.

He drops down and winds an arm around her waist. The contact sends tingles all over her skin, and her chest gets warm, but she ignores that.

She sets her head onto his shoulder, turning her attention back towards the book in her hands. "How was it?"

"I think it went well."

A good sign, considering at this point, he's invested four days now into this mark.

Hiwa taps his thigh with her index finger three times, then slides it to the right. Genma turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Hiwa's head, an action that both heats Hiwa to the tips of her toes and gives him a clear view of where Blondie has been sitting for the last half an hour, settled on a bench with a book of her own.

"You excited about going to the village tonight?" she asks.

"Sure," he says. "I think it'll be fun."

Hiwa hums. "Yeah. I heard a couple of the families are banding together to cook for us, so we'll get a nice traditional Fire Country meal."

"A traditional, home-cooked meal? Can't remember the last time somebody else did that for me."

She gasps and jerks away from him. "Oh, that was mean."

His grin is all smug and cocky. "But you don't deny it?"

"I tried for you! You're the one who told me not to try again because, oh. What was it?" She taps her finger on her chin. Then, she snaps her fingers. "That's right! You paid too much for that custom kitchen for me to set it on fire."

"Awh, c'mon, Kona. I'm teasing you."

Hiwa drops her book and crosses her arms over her chest.

She's gonna regret that in a little bit when she has to try and remember what page she was on. The things she sacrifices for the good of her cover.

Genma raises his eyebrows and leans in a bit. She tilts her head. One of his hands comes up to rest on her cheek and that feels _way _nicer than it has any right to, and Hiwa tips into it before she's even thought about it. Then she gets what he's trying to do—a kiss. That's what he's shooting for.

He's worried about boundaries, after the last one.

Hiwa rolls her eyes. She props a knee on either side of his thighs to straddle him and drapes her arms over his shoulders, intertwining her fingers behind his head. Both of her eyebrows go up.

_Clear enough_?

Genma's hand comes to rest on the back of her neck and he tips his head forward. Their lips brush, a whisper of a kiss. Hiwa's eyes slide shut and by the time they open again, he's pulled away and grinning at her, all smug once again.

This kiss was different than the last one. They both happened for the same reason—selling the cover. He knows Blondie is watching.

But something about this one was unbearably _sweet _and _gentle _and it leaves Hiwa wanting to go in for more, and a fleeting part of her wishes he wasn't so good at what he does.

She needs to get this out of her system, somehow. There was that one hot dealer she saw in the casino. He made googly eyes at her for the entire time she was at his table, and she thinks she might have a decent shot with him. Could even pull a Genma and see if she can get some information out of him, to boot.

She won't. She knows she won't. But the thought is nice.

Genma rests his forehead against hers. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go back to our room for a bit before we leave."

Hiwa realizes she's still hovering over him and effectively holding him in place.

She rolls off of him and hops to her feet. "Sounds like a plan."

Genma grabs her book for her, then follows her up. She grabs his arm and they head back towards the resort.

Hiwa doesn't feel the burn of Blondie's gaze on their backs, but somehow, she's certain that Blondie's attention was there anyways.

.

.

Hiwa drops face-first onto the bed once they're back in the room. The bed dips and she assumes Genma's sat down beside her.

"And we were doing so well," she mutters.

"We're still doing well," Genma says. "I'm pretty sure I'll be able to settle things with Saki tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, for sure the day after."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. She was pretty chatty, today. And she started flirting with me."

Small blessings, at least. "That's good. She show any signs of trying to interrogate you?"

"Not really. She's asked a few questions, but none of them come off as trying to figure out anything beyond the basics of what I do and where we're from. She didn't try to grill me on the details or trip me up, though. A couple of them sounded like she was spitting out rehearsed lines, but I think most of the time, she was just asking for her curiosity." His lips quirk up. "Like when she asked about our 'relationship'."

Hiwa laughs. "What'd you tell her?"

"Why you and I, my lovely wife, have an open relationship. And I am well within my bounds to make a move on the pretty cleaner."

"Hopefully she spreads that one around a bit," Hiwa says. "Might make things easier if you have to do this again."

"We'll see." Genma sobers. "But what was the deal with that woman?"

Hiwa grabs the nearest pillow and hugs it to her chest. She rests her chin on top of it, frowning. "I've seen her four times now. Once on our first day. Once in the casino—where she seemed to move in the same general directions that I did, even if she didn't outright follow me. Then, she was at that dumb little store, earlier, and she popped up in the garden like forty-five minutes after I settled in."

"She's upping her intensity," he says. "That's why you dropped the hint about the village tour?"

"Yeah. I wanna see if she shows up there, too. We might be in trouble if she does."

"You think she's a ninja."

"Maybe." Hiwa rolls onto her back. Her kimono, lavender-coloured to go with her eyes, gets rumpled at the movement and she tries to straighten it out a bit. "Unless she had a sound-enhancing device on her, there's no way she could have been able to hear us if she's a civilian. And there's no reason she'd intentionally sit out of earshot if she _was _following me."

"Did she have a wire on her?"

"I didn't see one? But I didn't have my jammer on me, to test it. I'll start carrying it, for if we run into her again."

"Good idea."

Hiwa stretches out on the bed. She reaches her hands up and her legs out, and the warm buzz that sends through her muscles has her yawning.

"I'm gonna take a nap before we leave," she says. "Can you wake me up an hour before we're supposed to meet there?"

"Sure."

"Awesome."

She throws off her kimono in favour of the cotton shorts and t-shirt she has on underneath and dives under the covers on her side of the bed. She's out within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

.

.

Genma doesn't stare at her while she sleeps because he's a lot of things but he's not a creep.

But from the few glances he does steal of her as he goes about rechecking his supplies and getting dressed for their excursion, he can't help but acknowledge how peaceful she looks.

She smiles in her sleep a lot, but it's not like the way she smiles most of the time—this doesn't hold any complications. It's just a smile, plain and soft. And it does something to her face that Genma can't put his finger on.

Hiwa's not the kind of girl he would ever call 'beautiful' or 'pretty'. She's not some knockout, stunning picture of perfection.

Something about the way she smiles when she's asleep, though, gets him. The furrow between her brow smooths out, and the tension strung through her, subtle but there, completely at odds with her unflappable, easy-going nature, releases. It turns her face almost angelic and the effect of it's uncanny.

Genma doesn't stare at her while she sleeps because it unsettles him, the way her smile makes his stomach flip around.

.

.

Their group meets at the resort entrance. Thirty or so vacationers huddled up and chatting amongst themselves as they wait for their guide. Everybody in good spirits, ready to go get drunk and eat good food and waste some money on dumb stuff that they'll probably never actually use, but keep anyways to look back on and reminisce.

Once he gets there, Hiwa notices right away that the tour guide assigned to them lacks an earpiece, but it doesn't surprise her once he explains that he's a local volunteer.

What does surprise her is the fact that Blondie never shows her face.

.

.

"What do you think?"

Hiwa turns, curious, and raises a hand to her mouth when she sees Genma standing a few feet away with a ridiculously huge straw hat on his head.

"Dashing," she says. "Really brings out your eyes."

He grins crookedly. "Yeah?"

She walks over and tweaks the rim of the hat. "Absolutely."

"Then I guess I'm getting it."

"Is that gonna fit in our suitcase?"

"I'll make it work."

"As long as you don't come to me asking me to put it in _my _bag, I don't care."

So, they take it up to the front counter, where a younger man stands looking bored out of his mind.

"Just that for you today?" he asks.

Hiwa holds off a smile. Retail work is retail work, it seems.

"You bet," Genma says.

The young man nods. He pushes a beat-up blue tin towards Genma. "Five hundred ryo, please."

Genma pulls a face and starts to fish through his coin purse.

While he does that, Hiwa asks, "You been busy today?"

"Sort of."

"Yeah? Seen anybody else from our resort group?"

"A few."

Hiwa hums. "S'pose business is starting to wind down for you guys. In September, now. Only a few weeks left of summer."

"We're always busiest in summer," he says.

"I know that summer's right around when Taki farms harvest their wheat. You guys do it then, too?"

"We harvest July to August, yeah."

"Huh. Must mean summers are always super hectic here."

The young man shrugs. "S'okay."

"Yeah? You guys do well this year?"

"Well enough."

Genma drops some change into the tin. "You guys grow wheat here?"

"Yes," Hiwa says, sticking her elbow into his rib. "Weren't you listening to the tour guide?"

"How can I focus on anything other than you, when you're around?"

The comment surprises Hiwa, and her face burns bright red.

The young man clears his throat and pushes the tin back to Genma with his change, and Genma dumps it into his coin purse with a wink.

Regardless of whether or not Genma ignored what the tour guide said, _Hiwa _listened closely. And it made Hiwa realize just what the political linchpin this little village actually is.

Because this village is one of the only villages in Fire Country that's far enough north—and thus, fair weather enough—to consistently grow wheat sustainably and efficiently. There's a crescent-shaped goldilocks zone along northern Fire Country, stretched from their border with Grass Country to their border with Rice Country. Five total villages choose to grow wheat, and from the five, this little village happens to produce the most. Almost twice as much as their leading competitor. Which, the total amount of wheat produced is chump change compared to somewhere like Taki, who invests more heavily in their farming and industries over ninja-related expenditures. But it's an important boon in keeping Fire Country somewhat independent.

Which makes it even more of a slap in the face if Kusa has decided here, of all places, to situate themselves.

"What do ya think?" Genma asks once they're back out on the street.

The village isn't bustling or anything. A few people are milling about, but the total population of the village is only a couple thousand people, and most of them live half an hour or more out of the village proper.

So, Hiwa doesn't think there's going to be anybody listening in on them as they talk, and she thinks Genma has the same idea.

Hiwa puts on a smile. "I'm a bit concerned."

"Yeah?"

"He said crops were 'alright' this year. And I think that's understating it, from what I've heard from everybody else. It sounds like there might have been an infestation of some kind, and it ripped two-thirds of the village's crops to shreds."

Genma clicks his tongue. "If it leaves us low on crops, then we're more reliant on Taki for our wheat."

"And we're more likely to get competitive and possessive over our contract with them, and feel threatened by Kusa moving in."

"Bad news."

"What's gonna be bad news is _me _when I get my hands on Jiraiya," she mutters. "This is information I would have liked to go in with."

"You know now."

"Yeah." She rubs a hand down her face, sighing. "This mission is working up to be a pain."

"At least the blonde woman didn't seem to follow us out here," he says.

"Yeah."

"Still concerned about her?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm paranoid—I'm liable to see what's not there, sometimes."

"But your gut tells you there's something fishy about her."

Hiwa shrugs.

Her gut instinct has been wrong before. And with the number of things she's already juggling for this mission, if she can toss away a ball or two, her life will be that much easier.

It's not so much that she plans to throw Blondie entirely out of her mind. She just won't keep looking over her shoulder and planning things around the potential involvement of Blondie. A piece to throw off the chessboard.

Genma knocks his shoulder into hers. "Does it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then I trust that."

"Gut instincts aren't always worth trusting; your gut isn't logical."

"But instincts are what keep us alive," he counters. "They exist for a reason. And I trust your gut instinct. I'm sure it's been honed into something reliable, at this point, or you'd be dead by now." He takes the hat off and sets it on her head. "Don't think I gotta tell you that, though, do I?"

Hiwa rolls her eyes, lifting the hat so she can still look at him, but she's smiling. "You're right, you don't have to tell me that," she says. "But, thanks."

.

.

And the way Hiwa smiles at him now, wearing that stupid hat he probably should have left behind, Genma finds it impossible not to smile back at her.

Maybe this is why he cares about getting things right with her. Because he sees this smile when he does. It's not like the way she smiles when she's asleep—this is its own beast. There's nothing soft or angelic about it. Honestly, if he were to compare it to anything, it'd be a forest fire. Raging and bright. Get too close and you're liable to be burned, but _damn _if it isn't tempting to step forward and hold your hands out in hopes of siphoning off even a sliver of warmth.

He knows he should step back. He's not ready to be burned. But against his better judgement, his feet are moving on their own, and there's nothing he can do to stop them.

And the part of him terrified about that is by no means insignificant.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Nothing soothes the soul more_

_than a meaningful one-night stand._

* * *

"I'm gonna seal the deal today."

Hiwa chews on her rice slowly from her spot on the bed. "You're ready?"

"Think so."

They're on day eleven of the mission, now. Just over a week into Genma's adventures in seducing the help, three days past when Genma initially thought he'd be done. He thought he'd be done on day five, but things didn't go as smoothly as he hoped, and then Saki had a couple of days off, so here they are. Day eleven. Halfway through their total mission time.

And he won't say it, but Hiwa can tell that it's bugging Genma. She doesn't think he runs into problems like this on most of his missions.

So, she nods and says, "Cool."

.

.

Hiwa spends the entire time Genma is working his magic sitting in their bathtub with earplugs in her ears, a book open in front of her and a perfumed cloth over her nose.

She doesn't think about what's going on in the other room because that thought process can go down so many different paths and not a single one of those will be useful to her, so she shoves the entire thing out of her mind. She focuses on her book, the trials and tribulations of some civilian clinic owner in a backwater village as two separate ninja clan leaders—who are bitter rivals, to boot—attempt to woo her.

It's fun. It's _clean_. And it keeps her mind off of things until the point where Genma pokes his head into the bathroom, his hair tousled and a flush lingering in his cheeks. He quirks an eyebrow at her.

Hiwa pulls the plugs out of her ear, ignoring the way her stomach somersaults at the sight of him. She leaves the cloth in place. Even limiting the scope of her senses as much as she can, she'll still be stuck smelling the scent of sex from the way it always lingers in the air, and that's not high on her list of priorities.

"Done?"

"Yep."

"Great. Let's get going on this, then."

She finds Suki in the bed, still naked, and Hiwa scrunches her nose. "Those sheets are getting washed before I sleep in there."

Genma scoffs. "I'll see what I can do."

"Ew."

He goes over to the bedside table and grabs something that he tosses to Hiwa. She snatches it out of the air.

The microphone.

Hiwa turns it over in her hands and inspects it. The device is relatively compact. An earbud with a wire that runs to the battery pack and a microphone that can be clipped onto a piece of clothing. Right under the earbud is a band with four separate buttons, and then a button on the earbud itself. The channels, and then the push-to-talk button. Good to know that they aren't the type to record everything.

She runs her thumb along the wire and asks, "How long will she be out for?"

"She was already asleep when I hit her with it, so it's a bit harder to estimate, but I'm guessing that it should keep her out for three or four hours. Depends on how strong her immune system ends up being, though."

Hiwa nods. "That should be long enough."

And she settles on the chair, the microphone held in front of her, and waits.

.

.

And three hours later, Hiwa's back in the bathtub, Suki having shown the first hint of starting to wake up.

Hiwa hears a yawn.

"Good morning," Genma says. "Have a good rest?"

"Man, yeah. I haven't felt that well-rested in like, a week. At least." There's a giggle. "You really wore me out, there."

Genma laughs, and it's different than his usual one. Deeper, more like a purr than a rumble. "Glad to hear it."

"That thing you did with your tongue—"

Hiwa slaps her hands over her ears and wishes she'd put the earplugs in.

She counts down from twenty. Her hands fall back into her lap.

"—another time."

"Maybe," Genma says.

"I gotta get going now, though. I've got to finish up this floor. What time is it?"

"It's almost five."

Suki gasps. "_What_? Oh Kami, I slept for—for three hours?"

"Yeah. You seemed tired, so I let you sleep."

The flurry of sheets being thrown off and clothes being jumped into. "I'm going to be in so much trouble if anybody finds out!" And more quietly, she mutters, "I _knew _I should have tried to get more sleep last night."

"Sorry," Genma says. "I didn't even think—"

"No, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it. But I—well. You know. Don't think my boss would be thrilled if he found out I was sleeping on the job."

_If only you knew_, Hiwa thinks.

"Understandable. Maybe this should just be a one-time thing, then."

Suki's laugh is sheepish and short. "Uh. Probably."

And there's the clean cut.

"Was fun though."

"Yeah," Suki breathes. "Very fun. Thanks."

"Pleasure was all mine."

"And, uh. I'll come back in an hour with those clean sheets, alright?"

Footsteps rush towards the door, the door opens, then slams shut.

Hiwa slips out of her hiding space.

She eyes the bed. Yeah, no.

Instead, she settles cross-legged on the vanity bench, and Genma takes up a spot leaning on the wall beside the window a few feet away from her.

After all is said and done, Hiwa finds herself with little to show for their expenditure.

She got no concrete indication of what's going on at the resort. No hint of ninja activity, no mention of anything potentially criminal, even. There's only one lead she got out of it and it'll either end up as entirely benign or the thing that cracks the case open.

"So," Genma says. "A basement."

"Apparently," Hiwa says.

"I haven't seen any doors to a basement." Genma flicks his gaze over to her. "You haven't seen anything pointing to a basement either."

"It's not just that. What do you know about Inuzuka's senses?"

"They're stronger than most."

"Yeah. Our hearing, too. It's no echolocation, but when it comes to buildings, at least, if Inuzuka use additional chakra to boost their senses they can at least guess at how many levels it might have. You hear four voices coming from above you at four different volumes, there's a good chance that building has four levels."

"And you haven't heard anything from the basement."

"Not a peep," she says. "Even if it was a small operation—which I think it probably is—I would have heard at least one or two voices down there. But all the voices I heard were above me."

"Can the architecture block you?" Genma asks. "I know some people have a hard time getting through to levels below-ground."

"Maybe," Hiwa allows. It shouldn't, but she doesn't say that because it's not _impossible_, just unlikely. "The only way to find out is to try out a few different places and see if I hear any difference."

Which is how they end up in a supply closet on the ground floor, with Genma pressed up against the front door while Hiwa is bent down between a mop and a shelf full of cleaning supplies, her ear pressed up against the floor. Much to her distaste, she's on her hands and knees, her ear stuck up to some of the most disgusting carpets she's seen in her life. There's a mystery stain about five inches from her nose and she's doing everything she can to pretend that it isn't.

"Anything?" Genma asks.

Hiwa holds her breath, channelling as much chakra as she dares into her ears. For a second, the sensation is overwhelming, as voices and noises rush into her ears. But she waits it out. She gives her body a second to adjust and filter. And she listens.

"Nothing."

"What about the rooms by the casino?"

Hiwa hopes that she isn't blushing, much as she thinks she probably is. Because all she can think of at that is the kiss.

But she clears her throat and says, "Might as well."

.

.

Genma runs a hand down his face and sighs.

Hiwa pulls the cigarette out of her mouth and says, "I know."

Because they spent the entire day bumming around the resort, testing out as much of the ground floor as they could. And there was nowhere Hiwa could hear any sound coming from the basement. And there's only one thing that can block her hearing like that.

"It _is_ possible they're civilians who hired ninja to privacy seal the area for them," she says. "I've heard of a few missing-nin who contract themselves out to do basic seal work for civilians under the table if they don't want to hire Konoha ninja for it.

"But it's unlikely," he says.

"Yeah. It's very unlikely."

"Meaning we're probably dealing with ninja."

"Yep."

Genma flicks around the senbon in his mouth, staring at the wall. "And now we clean it out."

The sun's gone down. The hotel is in that lull between dinnertime and the rest of the nightlife coming into full swing. The air is chilled.

It's an uncomfortable sort of calm, for Hiwa. A calm with an expiration date.

"Now _you _clean it out."

He blinks and his attention switches over to her.

"I'm not a fighter. And I'm definitely not an assassin," Hiwa says. "There's a reason I'm a special jonin and not a full jonin. I can defend myself fine enough, but something like this? I'm not who you want at your side, even if I called Rei in to help out."

Genma leans back a bit, frowning.

Hiwa kicks her ankles against the wood. She's perched on the frame at the foot of the bed, watching Genma in the corner of her eye as he stares dead-eyed at the far wall of their room from his side of the bed, naked save for his sleeping shorts and his hair braided back.

And she can see the way he takes this in, and his head falls back against the wall with a heavy thump. She knows that feeling. The sensation of going from in control to overwhelmed, a cup a few drops overfilled, where you were so close to being able to do it, and then you find out that no, the information you had wasn't everything and all of a sudden your paradigm slides five degrees to the side.

"But I don't think you should go in alone."

"Backup?" Genma says.

"That's what I'm thinking. I've got a Taki connection who will get word back to Jiraiya, and he'll send somebody."

"How long till they're here?"

"Two days, maybe three. Depends on how long it takes Jiraiya to respond and who they send. There's a chance they might instruct us to pull back entirely while they send in a cleaning crew to verminate the place."

"Guess there goes keeping up relations with the owner."

There's really only two different ways that this can end if it is Kusa nin, which honestly, acting like it's anything else _now _feels a bit silly.

"Maybe. Depends on how they want to handle things."

Hiwa makes a face.

She's seen this process play out on a couple of her missions, at this point.

The ideal is that they strong-arm the owner into dropping his Kusa connection and put him on their watch list. He gets a fine and is required to let Konoha conduct a full inspection every month or so, with a promise of something less than desirable should they find something they don't like.

But if he's not receptive?

Konoha will kill him and move into a hostile takeover. Though, that makes it sound like more of a fight than it ever is because folks know better than to outright resist when Konoha gets involved. It tends to be a bit of an open secret when something like this happens, a mutually known fact that nobody has the balls to say out loud. When somebody you thought might have been doing something shady gets murdered, and some previously never-mentioned family member springs out of the woodwork, coming to take it over? There's not a lot about it that's subtle.

A cobbled-together cover of some distant relation, some ryo to pay off anybody who squints hard enough at the situation, and for propensity's sake, a kunai in the shadows. That's the general gameplan. And she's seen it in action, enough to know that it's a solid gameplan.

But it's the last resort because even executed perfectly, it's messy. It takes time to get things back into peak operating capacity. Putting somebody new in charge means that trade and employee contracts have to be renegotiated, new contacts have to be established, that sort of thing. Easier to preserve what they can when they can.

It's the same kind of government shenanigans she's always seen. She would have been more surprised if Konoha tried to act like they were above it, or something.

Genma frowns. "Will that impact our timeframe?"

Hiwa shakes her head. "I wish I had an answer to that, but I don't. I can't hedge a bet. It'll all depend on past relations with the owner and how receptive he is to our demands. But… it's possible that it might."

She blows out a ring of smoke and lets it meander through the air a foot or so in front of her, then she kicks out and disperses it with her foot.

If Konoha wants to negotiate with the owner, then she and Genma will get instructions to act right away—the Kusa ninja have to be dead first and foremost. If there are Kusa ninja alive, the owner might feel like he has some ground to stand on, somebody to protect him. Not ideal when you're trying to scare somebody into submission.

Honestly, Hiwa would prefer this. This route will see them home again in less than a week.

But, if Konoha decides to kill the owner right off the bat? They'll be stuck here until the paper trail is established and they have somebody ready to take over the business

She's hopeful for the first possibility, from the way Jiraiya was talking about maintaining relations with the owner. Given that his reference letters were enough to expedite the border crossing process before all of this, she's inclined to think that he's maintained a solid relationship with the village up to this point. And after what she heard about the harvest, she knows that the village might be in a bit of a rough patch. The least disruptive option should be ideal.

She can't say one way or another, though. So she doesn't bother guessing out loud.

"We have to send for backup and then just sit and wait."

"Yep."

Genma sighs.

"_Yep_." She gestures with her cigarette. "Welcome to the infiltration business, where the constant marching order is 'hurry up and wait'."

He nods, and she thinks it's more to himself than at her. He's silent for a minute.

"... got a book I can borrow?"

"Now you're talking like a true infiltrator."

Hiwa sticks the cigarette back in her mouth and hops off the bench. "I've got a romance about a daimyo and his maid, two male samurai training under the same master who fall in love, a couple of ninjas having a messy love affair, a Kage and her bodyguard…"

"I'll take that one."

She fishes it out of her bag. It's a well-loved novel, filled with a rainbow of tabs and her scribbles along the margins. She tosses it over to him. "Enjoy."

"Uh-huh."

And as he settles down with the book, Hiwa gets to work on writing out the letter.

The end of her pen finds its way into her mouth. What was that code, again? It wasn't the basic Caesar Shift style code—named the Kodaba code in this world. That's for agents in Kusa itself. And she doesn't think it was one of the codes that uses a keyword, either.

She taps the pen against her teeth as she runs the list of codes through her mind.

It hits her.

The Village Code. Which is a deceiving name, because it makes it sound like it's something used widely. But it's specific to Jiraiya and his agents. On a scrap sheet of paper, she scribbles down the numbers forty-eight (for the years since Konoha's founding) and six (the number assigned to Taki). So, the coded message can be found by breaking the text into blocks of ten characters and reading the fourth, then the eighth, and then the sixth character.

Simple in theory, complicated in practice. Which is why she keeps it short and sweet.

It takes her an hour to choose her three-sentence-long message, but once she's satisfied, she folds it up and seals it. She'll have to mail it in the morning—the messenger centre closes after five in the evening, and it's almost seven.

Tomorrow.

Then, they get to just hurry up and wait.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_And if we are to burn this_

_day, at least we'll burn together._

* * *

Hiwa drains the rest of the coffee from her mug and rubs at her forehead, the endless ruckus of chatter and clink of utensils on dishes reminding her why she's been so adamant to avoid breakfast in the dining room with Genma each day.

It's fine in the evening. Not mornings. It's too early, and she's not awake enough to manage all the input.

Genma's lip twitches up into a half-smile. He reaches over and grabs her cup from her.

If he hadn't dragged her down here for no discernible reason than to see her suffer, she would have thanked him. But as he pours her another cup, complete with the right amount of cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon and sets it back in front of her, she says nothing. Because this is the least he can do.

Hiwa dunks her pastry into it. She takes a shark-worthy bite of her coffee-soaked pastry and she can feel a drop of coffee dribble down her chin.

A waiter approaches their table and Genma waves him off before he can say anything, grinning.

Hiwa gulps down her coffee and narrows her eyes on Genma. "What's it like to be a morning person?" she asks. She points at him with her not-a-poptart-but-definitely-a-poptart. "How do you do it?"

"Dunno. Always kind of have been."

"That's gross."

"Yeah, well—" Genma cuts off, looking at something over her shoulder.

Hiwa turns, expecting to see another waiter approaching, and instead, she sees Blondie picking her way through the tables. She has a stack of brochures in her hands. As she goes, she slaps down the brochures on people's tables with an award-winning smile.

Their gazes meet across the table and Hiwa feels any dredges of fatigue drain out of her.

"Good morning, you two!" Blondie says as she comes up beside their table, her smile bright and her eyes wide. "I hope you're doing well, so far."

"Well enough," Genma says. "What can we do for you?"

Blondie holds up one of the brochures. "The village is hosting a festival tomorrow night. There'll be free food, tons of games, and performances by the locals. I hear there's some wonderful dancers set to take the stage. It'll be a blast!"

"Ah, yeah. I heard some of the villagers talking about that when we were down there a few days ago," Hiwa says. She shrugs. "Something about celebrating the end of the harvest, now that the crops are being processed and shipped off to market."

"That's it!" Blondie says. "They're inviting all of the resort residents to come and join them in the celebration."

Genma tilts his head. "Are you from the village?"

Blondie flaps a hand and laughs. "Oh, no. My great uncle owns the resort. I was just here staying as a guest, but he roped me into helping spread the word about the festival since they're a bit short staffed right now."

Hiwa had wondered since the village trip if maybe she _had _been seeing something out of nothing when it came to Blondie. Because after that, Blondie stopped showing up around Hiwa.

Not so much, now.

"Sounds like fun," Hiwa says, holding her mug in front of her mouth.

Genma plucks the brochure from her hands. "Don't think we had anything in mind for tomorrow, anyways." He flips it over. "If you wanna go, don't see why not."

An idea comes to Hiwa, and she lowers her coffee down onto the table to reveal a grin. "It'll give me a chance to wear that pink kimono again! That was so fun."

"Seeing you in something short and cute?" Genma says. "Sure sounds like fun to me, too."

Hiwa flushes bright red, and it's one of the few times that she doesn't mind the reaction.

Blondie clears her throat. "Great!" she says. "I hope I see you two down there, then."

And on that ominous note, she parts from their table with a backwards wave. Hiwa watches Blondie as she goes, but with how Blondie's hair sits, it's impossible to tell if there's a wire or a bud attached to her ear. Hiwa's hand goes into her pocket to flick the switch on her disruptor but comes up empty—she forgot it, too tired from waking up early.

Neither of them says anything. Genma keeps examining the brochure, Hiwa stares down at the table, and the silence is only broken when Hiwa lifts her cup of coffee to her lips and mutters into it a soft, "_Shit._"

.

.

"Well, now we know she's definitely got her eye on us."

Around her toothbrush, Hiwa says, "Yep."

"Think they're going to actually try anything?"

Hiwa spits out a gob of toothpaste and leans her head out of the bathroom. "Probably not. We might just be one of a handful that they're hoping to investigate during the festival. I think we're just a couple of people on the list, not the whole list itself."

Genma flips the page of his book. "That'd be ideal."

"At least the festival sounds like it'll be a bit of fun."

He makes a face and Hiwa raises an eyebrow.

"Don't think so?" she asks.

"Not much of a festival guy."

"Really? I pegged you as the type to always be glad for a chance to get drunk and party."

He scoffs.

She heads back into the bathroom, not expecting him to elaborate.

"Too many people. I've never been a huge fan of crowds, 'cause it always makes me think I'm at a funeral or something."

Hiwa smiles to herself. "Yeah, I can see what you mean. We don't have to stay for too long, then. Just enough that we run into Blondie."

"Thanks," he says.

And it's so soft and gentle that something warm pools in Hiwa's stomach.

The smile on her face withers away.

_Oh, dear_.

The freaky impulses to kiss Genma? Liking it when he touches her? Annoying but harmless. Cravings for physical interactions can be satiated with somebody else when the opportunity arises.

But this? This is something else, something more dangerous and far more complicated to get rid of.

She might be more screwed than she originally thought.

* * *

Hiwa has been to more festivals in this life than she'll ever be able to count.

There was a music festival in Tea Country, where flutists and harpists and lutists wandered the streets, each playing a song of their own. The trill of music it created was unlike anything she can ever describe, a thousand songs weaved into some kind of disjointed, haunting symphony. It was a festival of celebration. The art of music, so central to the culture of Tea Country, put on full display as the most talented in the land congregated in one village to play. But it was also one of mourning, commemorating the slaughter of a troop of musicians during the First War. They were killed by Kiri nin who adamantly believed the musicians were Konoha spies.

At another, she had water thrown on her constantly for three entire days in Waterfall Country. Kids ran around with cobbled together water guns, teenagers stood on rooftops and dumped bucketfuls of water on unsuspecting passersby, and she even remembers one older woman lulling her into a false sense of security before she upended a glass of ice water on Hiwa's head. They called it the Festival of Flow, to celebrate the unending flow of the waterfalls that give the land its name.

And the painfully familiar rainbow-filled festival in Wind Country, where they threw coloured powder on each other and had an entire week filled with harmless pranks in the name of the Ichibi, to celebrate its capture by Hashirama and then subsequent sale to Suna. It doubles up as a celebration of the changing of seasons, once the harsh cold of winter finally tempers into something more manageable with the coming of spring. There was music and dance and food, all centred around a massive bonfire in the village's square, and she remembers how the whole thing made her head spin.

Fire Country festivals have their flavours, too. Konoha always has a massive one to bring in the new year, where the civilians flock to the temple at midnight for their fortunes and ninja slip away to pay a visit to the memorial stone. The was also the annual Lunar Festival on October first that she's determined to be back for and enjoy, which is a night to eat good food and admire the beauty of the moon as it winks down on you from a blank canvas.

Konoha isn't deep enough in agriculture to ever celebrate harvest festivals, and she's never been undercover in the right place at the right time to experience one, so the sight of an endless string of lanterns lighting up the rows of stalls up and down the village streets is a novelty for her. The sun's long set and the lanterns look like golden steps carved into a black mountain, stark and brilliant.

Her feet freeze in place the second it comes into view. "Wow," is all she can say.

Distantly, she hears Genma chuckle.

He gives her a minute to admire the sight before he tugs her along. "Come on," he says. "Might as well get up close and personal, yeah?"

As per usual, he's the prettiest of the two of them. She talked him into taking a trip into the village yesterday to get him a more formal kimono, and even distracted as she is by the rest of the spectacle, she allows herself a couple of seconds to admire her handiwork there. It's nothing extravagant—men's kimono are more toned down than women's. But this one is a definite step up from the navy one he's been wearing. A checkerboard designed hakama, crisp white haori, and sharp black haori string and obi.

She had to bargain to get him there, though. Her end of the deal is that she had to ditch the frilly mess of a "kimono" from before for something more traditional. It's still pink with sakura blossoms and unbelievably long sleeves; the furisode is a happy medium. Hers is only a rental, of a sort—the sweet lady at the shop insisted Hiwa borrow it, saying that Hiwa reminded her of herself during her younger days. And Hiwa didn't have it in her to say no. She couldn't say no to the blossom shaped pin stuck inside the folded kimono, either, that she now has nestled into her updo, a bun the size of her fist at the back of her head while the rest of her hair sways around her.

The smell of freshly baked bread is the first thing that hits Hiwa's nose. And it hits her hard—not in a bad way, so much as she doubts she'll be able to smell anything other than bread for the next day or two.

As they walk, she notices how many of the stalls are selling baked goods, from steamed buns to butter buns to milk buns, some stuffed some plain. She sees pastries. One stall has delicate pancakes as thin as paper with pork rolled into them, and another has takoyaki, squid-filled balls of deep-fried dough. A few people wander around carrying shaved ice, yakitori, and karumeyaki—it's basically baked caramel, a personal favourite of hers that she'll have to make sure they hunt down that stall at some point—but most of it seems to be various grain-related foods. Made from the harvest, if she were to guess. And there's so much of it. She never would have believed that the village didn't have all that great of a harvest this season if she hadn't heard it straight from the villager's mouths.

The noise never ceases, either. People are laughing and cheering as they play the games littered around, chatting amongst themselves, all dressed in their finery, silhouetted by the soft glow of the lanterns around the stalls.

Something tangible rests in the air, something warm and happy.

That's what she loves about festivals. Even the more sombre ones bring with them this sense of community, a shared experience, this unshakeable hopefulness. She can see how people might be put off by festivals. They're overwhelming by nature. But Hiwa, much as she is an introvert, a lover of the company of books and a blanket to keep her through the quiet evening, has always been drawn to festivals.

Genma's grip on her hand tightens. He leans down to say to her, over all the other noise, "Doesn't all this bother you?"

She taps her nose, then her ear, eyebrow raised. He nods.

She presses in close to Genma to make room for somebody else to pass. "You learn to filter input out," she says. "If we couldn't, we wouldn't be able to function. It's not perfect, and sometimes things stick around, but we can limit the chakra flow to our eyes, nose, and ears, to dull things if it gets to be a lot. Literally like the opposite of enhancing."

Most people don't realize that that's all Inuzuka enhanced senses break down to—their bodies naturally allocate a higher volume of chakra to those body parts. The biology of their eyes, ears, and noses isn't technically different than the average person's; they're not part dog, like some people might lead you to believe. But the effect most people get from consciously adding chakra to their eyes is what they get all the time.

The training that Inuzuka get in managing and interpreting their senses as they grow up is the kicker for it. That's what lets them utilize it better than most other ninja. And after a point, their bodies start to regulate the chakra naturally. The second she got within earshot of the festival, Hiwa's body started to drain the chakra from her ears, eyes, and nose in preparation.

"That how you deal with crowds?"

"Among other things, yeah. It's a trick you learn early on growing up."

He tilts her head; speaking of input.

Through the mess of voices, Hiwa hears the bang of drums and turns her head towards the noise, curious. Not paying much attention, she goes to step towards it—right into somebody else's path.

Too late she realizes what happened and tries to correct, but the unsuspecting man doesn't have the reaction time, and he bowls right into her.

She might have taken a face-first dive into the dirt, if not for the fact that the second she stumbled, Genma caught her with an arm around the waist. In the blink of an eye, she went from off-balance to pressed up against something very warm and very solid.

"Watch where you're going!" the man snaps at her.

His eyes flit up to Genma's face, and whatever he sees has them widening and he scurries away.

Hiwa hardly notices. She can't get over how comfortable she feels, being held by him like this, how warm and safe it is, and _wow _she is _screwed_.

Genma's head hovers over her shoulder, and he asks, "Alright?"

She could turn her head and kiss him so easily right now and the thought is more tempting than she wants it to be, as everything that should be normal and benign with Genma has become.

Her cheeks heat up. If he makes her blush anymore during this mission, she might spontaneously combust.

"Yeah," she breathes. "Thanks."

"There you two are!"

Genma's arm tightens on her waist. Hiwa turns to the familiar voice and sees Blondie standing a few feet away, idly fanning herself. She has a kimono on, the same distinct gold of wheat ready to be harvested, with little white flowers dotted around it. Her hair is drawn up into an elaborate updo, with a gold pin stuck through it.

Hiwa manages an awkward laugh and she steps away from Genma's grip. She does latch onto his arm, though, and his fingers entwine around hers.

"Hi," Hiwa says. "Having a good night so far?"

"You bet. It's so pretty—how could I not?"

Hiwa smiles. "The lanterns look incredible. Unlike anything I've ever seen."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure you guys don't have festivals like this, huh?"

"Not really—our big one is the Festival of Flow. We celebrate harvests, but never quite like this."

"It's definitely something to see," Genma says. "I'm glad we're getting the chance to."

And Hiwa can't read something in Blondie's gaze. It's sharp, sure. Firm. Calculating. But there's something resigned about it, tired, and it's a look Hiwa recognizes she must have been wearing a few days ago, after the village tour—the feeling of having a lead dry up in front of you.

Hiwa leans into Genma's arm and she can feel him lean back.

"Well, I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your time here, then!" she says. "I hear the dance performance is going to be starting in a few minutes, just over that way there." She points behind them and to the right. "It's always beautiful."

"Thanks," Hiwa says.

"You're welcome."

Blondie lowers her fan and bows to them. Hiwa blinks, startled. And Blondie turns on her sandaled heel and leaves without another word, disappearing into the crowd as if she'd never left it in the first place.

In the last second Blondie's visible, Hiwa flicks on the disrupter, hidden in the folds of her kimono. She barely catches a second of the telltale fuzz over the sound of the rest of the crowd, distinct amongst the drone of voices, before she turns it off again.

"She's got one," Hiwa says. "I could hear it."

"Figures," Genma mumbles. He frowns. "Something about that conversation, though."

"Weird."

"Uh-huh."

"I know," Hiwa says. "And it probably sounds crazy, but I… don't think we have to worry about her, anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles at him. "Trusting my gut on this one. Don't think I can explain it, but it feels like whatever we did, she's going to take her attention off of us."

He gives her one of his crooked smiles and her heart skips a beat.

_Shit_.

"I'll take your word for it."

Hiwa clears her throat, unable to stop her smile from widening a bit at his words. "Great. Then, let's head back. We got what we needed to get done, done."

"Don't you want to stick around longer?" he asks.

She blinks. "I mean, I said we'd leave sooner rather than later last night."

"Because of me," he says.

"Yeah."

He squeezes her hand. "I can handle another half an hour, or so. If you want to catch a few minutes of the dance performance."

She grins at him, so big her cheeks hurt a bit. "That'd be awesome. Maybe we can find that karumeyaki stand, somewhere."

"The what stand?"

"Oh. Huh. Yeah, I guess karumeyaki isn't common in Konoha, is it? More of a rural treat. I think you'd like it—it's basically a caramel cookie."

"That does sound good," he says. "Well, lead on. Let's see what we can find."

Hiwa squeezes his hand back. "Thank you."

And he doesn't respond, just smiles again and jerks his chin forward, and she takes that as permission to drag him off through the crowds, intent on finding their prize and enjoying a few minutes of the show.

She won't take advantage of his kindness; she won't keep him out here all night. But she'll be sure that she doesn't squander what he has given her.

.

.

Genma is uncomfortable.

It's still hot, even if the temperatures have been steadily dropping as the first weeks of September drag on. And this kimono is thick. He's sweating in places he never knew he could sweat.

Every step he takes is like wading through rapids, with people brushing up against his shoulders, pushing him into Hiwa, sticking their elbows into his sides. There have to be tourists who travelled in for the festival—there's no chance this many people came from the village and the resort, alone.

And the noise never seems to end. Yelling. Screaming. Laughing. He had a headache within five minutes, a migraine by twenty, and he doubts they're going away anytime soon.

But he'd do it again and more to get right back to where he is right now. Standing beside Hiwa as she watches the performance, utterly enraptured by the song and dance. Every so often she'll turn to him and explain some cultural tidbit he never would have gotten, like the folktale the dance moves are based on and the names of all the instruments being strummed and banged about, where else in the world she's seen them.

She wears her passion for the culture on her face without regard. But more interesting to Genma is understanding now that her passion isn't something that manifests in exuberance. It's too quiet for that. Rather, it distills into reverence, an awe she seems to feel down to her bones.

He doesn't need to pay attention to the dancers or the music. His show is standing next to him, in the way her lips form the words of a song she's never heard before, and how she sways to the beat of the drum and the strum of the shamisen without seeming to realize she's doing it. How her eyes never stop moving, taking in every detail and examining it, then storing it away for a rainy day.

He's a goner. Standing here in the late summer heat, both so ready to leave and wanting to stay with an almost primal need, Genma can recognize that. He's not just gotten his hand burned by the inferno—he's walked bodily into it, and been consumed by the flame.

He supposes that he might as well enjoy the heat while he's still around to feel it.

Genma moves to stand behind her. Both of his arms slide around her waist. She stiffens and hesitates. But her shoulders loosen and she rests against his chest, leaned into him completely, as if she's confident that he's somebody who won't let her fall.

That scares him as much as anything else.

He can't help but feel like she picked the wrong person when he's let so many people fall, already. How is he supposed to keep from doing it again? _Can _he even stop it? Or is the descent inevitable?

He's not sure.

But if he's learnt anything from Hiwa over the last few weeks, he supposes it's that you can't hedge a bet when you don't have all the information. He'll wait this out and see what the future has in store for them.

He doesn't think he has a choice in the matter, anyways. Not anymore. The flames are licking at his chin, now; he's in too deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and for those of you who have been eagerly awaiting,,,,,, next chapter, kakashi shows up ;)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I don't generally do this, but I wanted to direct people to my FFN account because of an AN I have posted on the FFN version of this fic that I can't post on this one. If you've got a minute, I'd appreciate it if y'all could take a look! :)

_Never trust anyone who has_

_not brought a book with them._

* * *

Hiwa, mid-undressing, feels dread pool in her stomach when an unfortunately familiar scent enters her nose. The distinct combination of spearmint, artificial strawberry, and soil, tainted by a hint of sweat, wafts through the crack under the door, carried along by the air conditioning system running full blast. She can't hear his footsteps padding down the carpeted hallway, though she should with how strong the smell is growing.

Her eyes roll. Not even that level of consideration, huh?

She slips her arm back into the sleeve of her kimono and sighs.

"What's up?" Genma asks. He looks up from his book, which he's now halfway through.

"Wait for it."

She wanders over and stands in front of the door.

Only the last couple of steps reach her ear, and then he's in front of the door. The way he blocks the light under the door gives him away.

She waits. He doesn't knock.

He knows that _she knows _he's there, and because he has to be obtuse for the sake of it, lest he ever make anything easy, he'll stand there until she opens the door for him.

Hiwa's forehead drops against the door.

"Mah, it's rude to make a guest wait outside your door like this."

From behind her, Genma says, "Wait, is that—"

"Unfortunately," Hiwa says.

"It's rather chilly, out here. I hope I can come inside soon. I'm already sick—don't want it to get worse, now."

"It's customary for somebody to knock on the door," Hiwa says to him, "before the host lets them in."

"What if I don't have any arms? Are you making assumptions about my physical capabilities?"

"Use your knee. Or your head."

"What if I have neither?"

"I can see the silhouette of your feet under the door. And if you didn't have a head, this conversation wouldn't be happening because you'd be physically incapable of speaking to me."

"Fake legs exist."

"And as plastic or wood limbs, they are just as, if not more capable, of knocking on a door, even if you _technically _lack a knee."

He heaves a sigh. "Oh, very well."

Two solid knocks that vibrate through Hiwa's skull.

She steps back and pulls the door open to reveal one Hatake Kakashi, with his hair hidden underneath a mousey brown wig, a medical mask over the bottom half of his face, and an eyepatch over his left eye.

Hiwa gestures him inside. Kakashi bobs his head and slouches into the room, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robe.

Because this mission wasn't already messy enough.

He pulls one out to salute at Genma. "Yo."

"Hey," Genma says. His gaze runs up and down Kakashi's body with a familiarity that piques Hiwa's interest, a thought she stashes away for later. "Fancy seeing you here."

Hiwa pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. "Why did Jiraiya send you?"

"Mah, gonna hurt my feelings, Hiwa. Sounds like you aren't happy to see me."

"Kakashi."

"That ninken of yours sure was happy to see me, at least. Let me give her pets and treats. She's quite the huntress—I got to see her catch, while I was passing by."

"Traitor," Hiwa mutters.

"Don't be like that."

"Then how about you answer my question?"

Kakashi shrugs. "If you must know, Jiraiya mentioned something about mass murder and here I am."

She doesn't let her shoulders tighten because she doesn't want to let Kakashi have the satisfaction of knowing the dig hit home. "Yeah?" she asks. "He got a new book in the works, too?"

"Think so."

Hiwa drops her hands to her sides. "... does he actually?"

"He might have mentioned that, too."

"New book?" Genma asks.

Blithely, Kakashi says, "Why, little Hiwa here happens to be one of Jiraiya's favourite sources of inspiration."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"_Shit_," Hiwa says under her breath.

She forgot how tiring he is. She _knew it_, but in the same way somebody remembers a bad dream, the kind of vague recollection of horror that only comes back full force when you're sucked into the nightmare again.

And she forgot how attractive he is. It's been a year since she saw him in anything more than passing; she hasn't come across him since their last mission together. And somehow, even with most of his face and his hair covered, Hiwa can already feel the memories flood back in and she _swears _that the next time she sees Jiraiya he's going to regret sending her here in the first place.

This mission was supposed to be easy, wasn't it?

"Icha Icha Undercover was based on a mission of ours from a year ago—"

"Unless you want to wake up with pink hair and itching powder in your shoes, you're going to stop talking right now," Hiwa says, smiling. "Your copies of Icha Icha will be casualties, too. Don't you worry."

"You couldn't," he says.

Not that she wouldn't—she doesn't make threats often, when she does, they're not idle. Kakashi has the experience to back that one up. But the poor asshole of a jonin thinks that she's simply incapable of following up on it.

At least he's an _asshole_. An attractive one, but an asshole, and that does wonders for keeping her feelings in check.

Her smile grows wide and sharp. "Are you really willing to risk that bet?"

Kakashi stiffens.

Genma's brows furrow and he stares at Hiwa, but one look from her and he drops the subject.

"So, what're our instructions?" Genma asks. "How do they want us to handle this?"

"If you insist on talking business." Kakashi reaches into his robe and pulls out a small packet of papers that he hands to Hiwa. "The village has decided that they can't trust him. Not with how tensions are running right now. And they want to send a message to Kusa that these tricks aren't going to end well for them and their agents."

Hiwa bites back a groan.

_Why can't anything ever be easy?_

There's a sloppily written 'sorry' scrawled along the top of the packet, punctuated with a heart, and it has Hiwa rolling her eyes. She flips the packet open and skims the documents. Political information. Village background. Resort background. List of people who've passed through the border with reference letters, and the coinciding sightings of a few of those people within Konoha. Trade information, specifically with Taki, in regards to both Konoha and Kusa, and Hiwa feels a grim sense of satisfaction at having soundly called that one a few weeks ago.

"Sounds like they were already somewhat prepared for this outcome," she says, still reading. "They've got a lot of the paper trail already laid out. They're just having a hard time getting somebody to agree to uproot that will be able to effectively run the resort."

At Genma's questioning look, she elaborates, "They're going to kill the owner and send somebody from Konoha to replace them. Ideally, a civilian who's willing to take over the business permanently. But in a pinch, they might send an infiltrator to hold things for a year before passing it over to a civilian business person, if it's taking too long."

Kakashi nods. "They said they'd send word once they've got somebody."

"How long will that take?" Genma asks.

"Could be tomorrow," Hiwa says. "Could also be a week." She tosses the packet onto the bed with a bit more force than necessary. "Either way, we can't wrap things up here until they clear us to move forward."

"Couldn't they just pay somebody off and order them to come?" Genma asks, the question filled with a brand of dry humour that most ninja develop at some point in their career.

"They are going to pay them off," she says. "Whoever takes the job will have a pretty comfortable life, between the income from running the place and a stipend the village usually allot to them. But they can't really force civilians to do anything."

Kakashi, equally dryly, says, "Well, they _could_. But for some reason it's frowned upon to make your cute little civilians do things at kunai point."

Genma sighs. "So, hurry up and wait?"

"Hurry up and wait," Hiwa says.

"And in the meantime, you have me to keep you company." Kakashi's visible eye forms a little crescent, and Hiwa's pretty sure he's smiling. "How lucky of you."

"Yeah," Hiwa says, dragging the word out. "How lucky of us."

.

.

Once Kakashi is out of the room and well past earshot, Hiwa lets her head fall back against the door and crosses her arms over her chest. She lifts her head again. And, for good measure, drops it back against the door.

"So," she says. She closes her eyes. "You two know each other?"

"I think that's less surprising than _you two _knowing each other."

"Why would it be?"

"Come on; you've seen the tattoo."

"Oh. So it's an ANBU thing."

"You could say that."

At that, she opens her eyes and squints at him. "Uh-huh." She considers. "I'll offer you a trade," she says. "Spill the details and I'll tell you about how Kakashi and I know each other."

"Seriously?"

Hiwa raises an unimpressed eyebrow, a half-smile on her face. "If all your interactions with Kakashi have been ANBU-related I'll strip right now and eat my panties."

Genma rolls the senbon around his lip. "I think you're overestimating my interest in your history with Kakashi."

She considers jumping on that non-denial but that feels a bit cruel, given that she doesn't really know that history and why he could be avoiding it. Instead, she asks, "Am I?"

"Yep."

"Fine, then," she says. "But the offer's on the table if you change your mind."

* * *

Hiwa looks up when she hears the door open, idly tapping her finger against the lit cigarette in her hand.

A shirtless Genma wanders into the room. He stretches his arms above his head, yawning, and Hiwa feels all of the heat rise to her face.

She clears her throat. "So, how was your hot springs experience?"

Genma rubs at the towel over his still-wet hair. "Good."

"What's his cover, while he's here?" she asks. Business is a safe topic. It absolutely won't distract her from the very attractive shirtless man a few feet away from her, but it might keep him occupied enough that he won't see just how quickly she's started blushing.

"Weaponsmith in Iron," he says. He drops the towel onto the floor and kicks it towards the bathroom. "You've got a cousin in Iron, now, by the way."

Hiwa takes the seven of water and sets it on top of an eight of fire, and the cards make a soft _thwip _as she does. She's sitting on the bed with her legs in a wide 'v' shape, the cards set up between them.

The goal with Genma and Kakashi 'running into each other' at the hot springs was to hit two birds with one stone. Have a nice, public first meeting between Genma and Kakashi, the easiest way to allow the three of them to interact publicly, or explain why one's entering or leaving the other's room. And at the same time, Genma got his chance to soak in the hot springs.

"Yeah?" she asks. "What do they do?"

"Ended up working at a boutique in the same city as him after bumming around for a few weeks. A tailor took her in. Kakashi—Yutaka is what he's going by—knows her vaguely."

She flips a card over to reveal a ninja of earth. She makes a face—she can't do anything with that. "In Mitoya?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

Hiwa takes a drag off her cigarette, nodding.

A relatively believable cover. Mitoya was the biggest city in Iron, with a population of roughly ten-thousand people. It's the first place somebody from Taki would go. But the place isn't so big that it's impossible for them to happen to know each other.

Coincidences are always a risk when trying to link up covers, but Hiwa thinks that this one _should _be fine.

Genma heads over to his pack. On his way past, Hiwa catches sight of the added tattoos on his arm, designed to cover up his ANBU tattoo—a couple of koi fish, stretching from his shoulder to his elbow. She's patting herself on the back over that placement because it accentuates the toned muscles in his arms quite nicely.

And while Genma didn't give it much thought, Hiwa sure appreciates it. In fact, she looks up from her card game once again to do just that, even though she feels her cheeks flame right back up because some things are worth it, especially now that he's got his back to her. She's sure Kakashi appreciated it, too.

ANBU-related only her ass.

"What did you guys end up setting up?" Hiwa asks.

"Yutaka invited us to join him on a river tour tomorrow."

"Oh, nice," she says. "That sounds like fun."

"Yep. And we'll probably get a few minutes alone to talk mission stuff."

Hiwa hums.

She leans back against the pillows and stares down at her cards.

Slipping his shirt over his head, Genma wanders over to the bed. He leans his hip up against the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. "What're you playing?" he asks.

"Solitaire," she says, and the word comes out weird because she's never said it out loud and in her distinctly Japanese accent, it's garbled at best.

"I've never heard of that before." Slowly, sounding it out, he says, "Solitaire."

"Yeah. But they also called it 'patience', which is way easier to say." She flips over a ten of fire and frowns. Nothing she can do with that. "Picked it up during a mission once."

And that's not a lie. It just wasn't a mission in _this _life.

She doesn't even remember specifics about when and how she started playing it in her last life, honestly. All she knows is that the first time somebody showed her the playing cards in this world, the first thought that popped into her head was that she could play solitaire again, followed by a memory of sitting in some swanky hotel room, copious amounts of room service spread out on a table beside her and a game of solitaire laid out on a bedspread worth more than her month's rent. But the cards were different.

Where she sees earth, wind, fire, and water in front of her, in her memory there are hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs; where the image of a bent-over civilian, a sneaky ninja, and a menacing Kage are displayed to her, she remembers a fancy jack, a beautiful queen, and a regal king in their place. There's no ace, either, just a one card.

And this world's deck lacks jokers and other miscellaneous cards, so the standard deck only contains forty-eight cards. But that's not a non-issue for solitaire.

Hiwa shakes her head and pinches her cigarette. She watches as it bends a bit, a shower of ash let loose off the end. Well, it's unsmokeable now. Not that that stops her from giving it a shot, craving the burn in her lungs, and is rewarded by a baby puff of smoke before the payoff peters out.

With a sigh, she drops it into the water-filled glass at her bedside.

"How do you play?" he asks.

"The goal is to get each set lined up from one to Kage. You get six piles in the middle, then a discard pile at the bottom. Water and fire can go on top of each other, and earth and wind can go on top of each other, 'cause the elements cancel each other out."

"Huh. Sounds fun."

"Yeah?" she says. "Wanna play a round? I'll coach you through it."

"You can finish up your game first."

"Eh. I think I'm going to hit a stalemate soon, anyways. Not a big deal to just start again."

He grins at her, and she grins back without hesitation.

"Then, sure. Show me how you start it."

* * *

The next day, at the crack of dawn—which, much to Hiwa's displeasure, leaves her with only seven and a half hours of sleep, not the nine she needs to feel vaguely human—a group of fifteen guests troop out of the resort. They have a few hours' walk south to get to the river, during which she, Genma, and Kakashi go about 'catching up' and admiring the scenery.

The river itself is some yawning thing that makes up the border between Fire Country and Grass Country, and then between Grass Country and Rain Country. On the Fire Country side, where they're going to be exploring, after breaking off from the border it forks north-east for a few hundred kilometres, then veers back south-east where it drains into a massive lake Hiwa's heard of but never been to.

The walk itself is comfortable. Hiwa brings a fan to keep herself cool, and after a while, the three of them break off into discussing books, their one mutual point of interest that _isn't _related to ninja business.

"Do you read anything that doesn't have gratuitous descriptions of boobs in it?" Hiwa asks, skewing her gaze to Kakashi, the bottom half of her face hidden by her fan.

"Occasionally."

"Okay. Do you read anything that doesn't have gratuitous descriptions of boobs _or _dicks in it?"

Kakashi blinks at her. He's lost the medical mask in favour of just the eyepatch. "This feels like a personal attack."

Genma snorts.

"So that's a no," she says. "Jeez."

"Do you read anything that doesn't have romance in it?" Kakashi counters.

"Hey, now," Hiwa says. "That's so not the same thing."

Kakashi hums. "Isn't it, though?"

"No. Romance as a plot device is dramatically more diverse than smut."

"I dunno," Genma says. "You can do some crazy stuff with smut. Not all of it has to be, like, purely designed to titillate the reader."

Hiwa stops walking. "No. You two are not allowed to gang up on me like this."

Genma grins, shrugging, and Kakashi tilts his head.

"Romance is so much more valuable and complex than penis goes into vagina or penis goes into ass or clitoral stimulation—"

A man from the group walking in front of them whips around, eyes wide.

A hand goes over her mouth and Genma says, "And that's enough of that." He slides his other arm around her waist, pulling her into his side and dragging her forward again.

She can't bring herself to pull away and at this point, she's kind of fallen into a resigned acceptance of the fact that she's going to have to be weak like that for the next little while.

"Don't forget the toys," Kakashi says.

Genma shoots him a look that Kakashi counters with a raised eyebrow, and Hiwa wishes she could translate the mini-conversation that seems to go on between them.

She pulls his hand off her mouth. "Yes, Genma. Don't forget the toys."

"I'm sorry? Who's ganging up on who, now?"

Hiwa sighs. "Let's just settle on the middle ground of novels that use smut as a form of emotional climax tied directly to the development of said romantic relationship and let the conversation die."

Kakashi sighs dramatically, one arm draped over his eyes. "If we must."

Genma squeezes his arm around her waist. "Sure."

.

.

The river tour itself is beautiful, as Hiwa expects.

They end up being broken up into groups of five and dispersed over three boats. Hiwa, Kakashi, and Genma end up on a boat with a couple of the people who were walking ahead of them, and the wary looks they give her and Kakashi probably shouldn't be as funny to her as they are. If this weren't an important mission, she might choose this time to reignite the smut discourse. But it is. So, she keeps her mouth shut.

Instead, she admires the view of the countryside as they float down the river, the fields of gold and the trees as tall as the Hashirama Forest surrounding Konoha. Towering maple trees, with their thick green leaves, and bushy zelkova trees that have taken on the slightest yellow hue. They pass a few farmers, on their way along the river, and a group of village kids who shout at them and wave wildly as they float by.

Hiwa spends it all leaned into Genma's side, her head rested on his shoulder.

.

.

After the third or fourth painfully smug, knowing looks that Kakashi sends Genma, Genma scowls at Kakashi over Hiwa's head.

Kakashi wiggles his eyebrows, still smirking.

Genma wishes he could get away with shooting Kakashi a middle finger, but he's pretty certain that if he tried, Hiwa would notice the movement. He resigns himself to throwing Kakashi a dirty look back here and there, and the knowledge that the next time a debate pops up between Kakashi and Hiwa, he'll take Hiwa's side out of spite.

.

.

In the light of their campfire, Hiwa frowns at Kakashi. "You want to go in and scout," she murmurs. "You think that's a good idea?"

"You don't?" Genma asks.

She gestures at Kakashi with her skewer of chicken. "Explain."

Kakashi hums. "Manners?"

Hiwa raises her skewer to her mouth and rips a chunk out of a piece of chicken, not breaking eye contact for a single second as she chews.

They're pretty well separated from the rest of the resort guests. Enough that nobody is close enough to make out the privacy seals Kakashi scrawled into the dirt with his finger.

Genma rolls his eyes. "Please, explain."

Kakashi pats him on the knee and says, "Since you asked so nicely." The lackadaisical posture of his legs wide open, his shoulders low, and his hand cupped on Genma's knee giving Hiwa one message. The shuttered off expression on his face gives her a whole other, one she's inclined to put stock into. "Going in to attack without any kind of idea of who or what we're attacking is a painfully idiotic idea."

"Hey," Hiwa says. "I'm not saying to not scout at all. Just that I dunno if it's smart to do it _now_ when it could be a week, even, before we get word to move in."

"From how Jiraiya was, I don't think they'll leave it that long. I can't see them waiting more than another three days. Four, at most."

"You're confident about that?" Hiwa asks.

The blank stare Kakashi gives her in response as if that was the stupidest answer she could have given, tells her enough.

"My opinion is that you should still wait until we get word. Scout the day we get word, even, and then spend the next day planning. But I can't order you around—obviously."

While the mission was primarily Hiwa's, as the only full jonin, the second Kakashi got to the mission premises he became the commanding officer. It's technically his mission, now. Final say on all of the decisions is his.

"I agree with her," Genma says.

And Hiwa raises an eyebrow at that. This, from the guy who had been gung-ho and frustrated with her slower pace a week and a half ago.

But Kakashi seems to at least take this into account. He pulls back his hand to rest his forearms on his thighs and leans back on his log, illuminated by the orange glow of the late evening sun as it clings to the horizon, nearly set. He taps his finger on the skewer and looks between the two of them.

"Fine," he says. "I'll hold off for three more days. But once those three days pass, regardless of whether or not we've gotten word, I'm going in."

"That's fair," Hiwa says.

"Yeah."

"Good." Kakashi clears his throat. "Now: let's talk female lead characters and their most valuable qualities."

At the same time, both Genma and Hiwa say, "Determination."

Hiwa grins. "So you're liking _Woman of Water_, eh?"

"It's solid, so far."

"Just wait till the ending."

"In a good way, or a bad way?"

"Good way."

"It's a decent ending," Kakashi says. "Would have been better if—"

"Dude!" Genma squawks. "No spoilers."

Hiwa leans forward, her elbows propped on her knees. "You've read _Woman of Water_? What happened to not reading anything without smut?"

He gives her that look again, the one that makes her feel a bit like an errant toddler. "I never said I don't," Kakashi says. "You just assumed that."

"Huh. Fair." She reevaluates. Maybe they have more to talk about when it comes to books than she's always thought. "And you like the lead in that book?"

"She's a strong perspective to follow."

And she's surprised to hear that given that the book is, for all intents and purposes, the closest thing to a feminist manifesto in literature form that she's ever found in this world. It's not _perfect_, but the author was a retired kunoichi. That makes all the difference. The male gaze isn't leading the book, and there's a clear desire to see women as _equal _to men. Not just in the 'equal but separate' sense some ninja skirt along.

The female lead in the book throws out S-rank jutsu like they're candy and defends herself effectively from every threat that comes her way, be it physical or political—the bodyguard is a formality, most of the time, and an easy way to put the two leads in close proximity. She clearly deserves her title of Kage. In a world where there's not yet _been _a female Kage—close as she's heard Kiri is to having one, with the rise of Terumi Mei and her movement—that's nothing short of radical.

It's a surprise that a fan of Jiraiya's work would ever want to read it.

Which, she will give credit where it's due, Kakashi has never struck her as the sexist type. Not from the three or so missions they've taken together, by now. But there's no denying the trends in his reading material, based on what he lets himself be seen reading.

"If you want, I have some other things I can suggest for you, with similar leads," Hiwa says.

His eye scans her. "I'll think about it."

"Cool. I can give you, like, a huge list. And lend you them if I have a copy. Some of them are in the library."

"Whatever."

Hiwa grins, sharp and thrilled, and says, "Then let's move on again. What are your opinions on book-to-movie adaptations?"

Genma groans and drops his head in his hands.

Kakashi's eye widens and his lips twist down in disgust. "How dare you bring that up in the same conversation as _Woman of Water_?" he whispers."After what happened there?"

Hiwa, satisfied, leans back on her log and pops another piece of chicken into her mouth, ready to watch the show.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_There is not a crime, there is not a dodge, there is not a trick,_

_there is not a swindle, there is not a vice which does not live by secrecy._

* * *

"Favourite food? Other than pumpkin mochi."

"I'll eat anything if you put sweet red bean paste on it."

"_Anything_?"

"Anything."

"Good to know."

"You?"

"I mean, I don't know. I don't think I have a favourite? I'll kind of eat anything."

"Not even a favourite sweet? Or dish at a restaurant? What do you eat whenever you go out?"

"That's generous of you, to assume I have friends go out and eat with."

"Never said anything about doing it with other people."

"Do _you _go out to restaurants alone?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh."

Genma bumps his shoulder into hers. "Next question?"

Hiwa taps her pencil against her chin and thinks about it. The breeze rustles her hair, and the edges of their blanket flip up beneath them.

"If you weren't a ninja, what would you have done?" she asks.

"Huh."

She laughs. "Never thought 'bout it?"

"Not really, no."

"I'd probably have become a musician," she says.

"You plan an instrument?"

"I used to play the flute. Stopped after I graduated from the Academy, 'cause there just wasn't the time."

Which translates to 'I got shipped off to the frontlines and you can't bring a flute with you there', but there's no need to drag the mood down with that. She's picked it up a few times for missions and rusty as she was, it's come in handy. She's just never been able to bring herself to commit to relearning it.

She pokes him with the eraser-side of her pencil. "So?"

"I honestly don't know. I've never thought I would be anything other than a ninja."

"You're a good cook."

"But I'd never want to work in a restaurant."

"Book store?" she says. "That's normally pretty lowkey."

"Maybe."

Sensing she isn't going to get anywhere with the question, Hiwa gestures with her pencil and puts her attention back on her sudoku book. "Next question."

Genma reaches into the basket and pulls out a container with salmon that the kitchen had been nice enough to spare. The kitchen staff were softies, as it turned out, given that all she and Genma had to do was look dopey and cute, and the kitchen staff melted. Which is how they got their bounty of freshly grilled salmon, onigiri, chicken soup, and some vegetables soaked in a vinegar sauce.

"Something you wanna do before you die?"

Hiwa makes a sound in the back of her throat. "Wow, that one's morbid."

Genma scoffs. He pulls out the plates and goes about divvying up the salmon

She scribbles a nine into one of the boxes, thinks about it, then erases it again.

What does she want to do before she dies?

_A hand on hers._

_His voice as he encourages her, earnest and true, even when everybody else is telling her to back down and stop._

_The look of shock on his face the first time he calls her 'babe' and how both of them immediately know it was a slip, but neither of them wishes it hadn't happened._

_The soft, gentle whisper in the night._

_Him taking the time to call when she's across the world and it's midnight for him and ten in the morning for her, and how he never once complained about staying up just to talk to her because he was too busy being glad for her voice._

A plate bumps into her thigh.

Hiwa blinks, startled, and Genma shuffles back over on the blanket to serve up his own plate.

It wasn't love. It was close, something soft and special and precious in its own right, but she remembers that with certainty—it wasn't love, not yet.

And this isn't either, nowhere close to it; she's at the bottom of the mountain and love's balanced precariously on the peak. Whatever this is? It's fresh and uncertain. New. Fragile. Like a dandelion that's one breeze away from losing all its wishes to the sky.

Hiwa huffs out a laugh.

She doesn't even know if it's going both ways. As far as she's aware, everything Genma's done at this point is just to keep up the cover. She's the sucker who went and complicated things.

Not that that changes the fact that she's attracted to him in more than just a physical sense.

It started that way with the kiss, but it's grown past that. She could go and find somebody and make out with them for hours in a back alley, or something, and she doubts it would do much to put out the fire in her gut when she sees him. Not since she realized that as much as she liked what his lips can do, she likes the way it feels to be held by him, touched by him. The way he makes her feel like nothing can ever knock her down so long as he's within arms reach.

Smiling, she says, "I'd like to fall in love, more than anything."

It's not great for the mission, that's for sure. And she still has no intention of letting it get in the way of the mission. The mission won't last forever, though. Give it a week, maybe two, and they'll probably be on their way back to Konoha, the mission at their backs.

What happens then?

* * *

"So, it sounds like you and Hiwa had quite the fun chat yesterday."

Genma freezes. Slowly, he turns his head to look at Kakashi, equal parts horrified and suspicious at the turn the conversation has taken. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

"A shame I wasn't there to see it in person," Kakashi laments. He leans back against the rocky side of the hot spring, his head tilted up to stare at the ceiling. "And microphones can only carry so much tone, you know. But I'd like to think I can imagine the face you made when the 'L' word popped up in—"

Genma drops underneath the water and lets it scorch his skin for all of a second. He pops back up, shakes the water out of his hair, and breathes.

From where he's standing, he can make out one of the privacy seals Kakashi set down around the room, painted onto parchment and taped down at the cardinal points in the room. That and the lock on the door ensure that not a soul is gonna catch a whiff of anything that they say, while in here.

"First of all, _how _were you eavesdropping on us?"

"Hiwa was wearing a microphone," Kakashi says. "Konoha standard. Gotta keep in contact, you know."

"What? I didn't see—"

But of course, he didn't because her hair would have covered it.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head. She didn't know I was listening, either. I tampered with it a bit so that it'd keep working, even if she muted it. I just told her to wear it as a precaution to soothe my heart." Kakashi waves a hand. "Your sweet love didn't betray you."

"Please stop talking."

Kakashi smirks. Genma almost wishes that Kakashi had his mask on because right now, his face is all too punchable and Genma doesn't want to get himself marshalled for punching his commanding officer.

Which says a lot because aside from the whole assassin thing, Genma's not generally a violent person. And he hates how quick the topic is to rile him up. Both because that's never a good thing for a ninja, to have pressure points like that, but also because it doesn't bode well for him.

Eyes narrowed, Genma sinks into the water, all the way up to his jawline.

Kakashi leans his elbows back on the edge and props his chin in one of his hands. "I'm not sure what's more entertaining," he says. "The fact that you're in so deep so fast, or the fact that you're so very determined to run from it. Oh, the drama. The intrigue."

"Get your nose out of my business. You're just here to slit some throats, not gossipmonger."

"Why not both?"

Genma groans.

"I don't see why you don't just ask her out," Kakashi says, eyebrow raised. "She's clearly feeling something about you, too. And you're pretty—who can say no to that face?"

"Pretty," Genma mumbles. "That's what she said, the first day I met her. That I was pretty."

"She's got good taste."

"Does she?"

"Now, none of that. Self-defeatist brooding is my territory."

Genma rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going to sit here and try to read her signals about how she might be feeling when we're undercover like this, so there's no point in even thinking about what's to come. No need to jump to conclusions this early."

"Or," Kakashi says, "you just don't like what you're reading."

When Genma doesn't say anything else, Kakashi's smirk only widens. "So? Why not make it official?"

Frankly, the last person Genma's going to trust with any of this—no, he won't let himself think about how she might feel about him, not now, that's not fair to either of them—is Kakashi. Kakashi has his own charm and he's one of the best people to have at your back out in the field, but when it comes to anything that can be construed as 'drama', you can trust Kakashi about as far as you can throw him.

Which is not even an inch because good luck ever getting your hands on Kakashi to toss him around in the first place.

He settles on, "We're already married. I don't think it can get any more official than that."

"So that rumor is true," Kakashi drawls. "How spicy."

"It was to keep her from being forced—"

"Into an arranged marriage. I'm aware of the current mess between the Inuzuka and Nara over her, and the clan regulations regarding Inuzuka women and their marital status."

"What? How?"

"I keep tabs on things."

"Why are you keeping tabs on the Inuzuka and the Nara?" he asks. Genma narrows his eyes. "And the negotiations around her marriage, specifically?"

Kakashi hums.

"Seriously? Why…" Genma trails off.

Because Hiwa and Kakashi's bickering came off as more familiar than people who've been on one or two missions together—it's obviously been more than that. Kakashi did mostly assassination and seduction, same as Genma, but he could fit himself into any role he needed to, and Genma knew he could work infiltration as well as anybody. That level of familiarity, though. She recognized his scent and Kakashi seems to be able to read Hiwa's body language well enough to make his own assumptions on how she feels about Genma.

How many missions had they been on together?

And what could they have done that would get them into one of Jiraiya's novels?

Nose scrunched up in disgust, Genma asks, "How well do you two _know _each other?"

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

"_Kakashi._"

"Gonna have to buy me dinner if you want those answers."

"Not on your life."

"Well. I suppose there are other ways you could sway me."

Genma blinks, taken off guard by the sudden switch. "You're not serious. Here?"

Kakashi slips down into the water and wades over to Genma. Languid confidence exudes from his movements as he settles himself right in front of Genma, not quite in his space yet but close enough that that can change real fast if either of them wants it to.

"Why not here?" Kakashi asks. "You're not tied down."

"Yeah, but—"

Under the water, Kakashi reaches out a hand and ghosts it over Genma's ribs, the way Genma's always liked, and Genma's downright annoyed at the shiver that runs down his spine. And Kakashi, knowing exactly what he's doing, simply smirks.

"Mah, come on. Haven't you always wanted to see if sex in a hot spring is as kinky as the books always make it seem?"

"I can't believe you just said that," Genma mutters.

But still, he pushes off the wall and floats forward, so that he and Kakashi are nose to nose.

Kakashi hooks an arm behind his neck and says, "That's more like it."

Before Kakashi can pull him down, Genma tips his head forward and their lips meet, harsh and primal.

Genma takes the chance to forget everything going on in favour of focusing on the way it feels when Kakashi fists his hand in Genma's hair, drags his nails across Genma's back, and just generally acts like a damn deviant.

He won't feel bad for letting himself have this.

.

.

Hiwa rolls over, only half awake when she realizes Genma's back in their room. She curls up tighter and ducks her head under the blanket.

"How were the hot springs?" she mumbles, the words muffled.

"Fine. You sleep the whole time?"

"You bet."

Genma scoffs. "Yeah, then it's time to get up."

"Gimme another half an hour."

"We're supposed to be going to that performance down in the ballroom. That starts in like, an hour. Don't you want to get ready?"

Hiwa fists her hand in the blanket and groans, feeling the sleep start to ease from her body. "Not yet."

"We're not going to be late. If we're late, we probably won't even get a seat."

"Genma, come on."

"You're the one who wanted to go, in the first place."

"Didn't know I was going to want to nap," she says. "Can't plan for these things."

She hears him walk over to the bed.

Her grip on the blanket tights. "Don't you dare."

In one sharp tug, the comforter is ripped out of her grasp and off her entirely, leaving her susceptible to the current of the air conditioner, icey and unforgiving. Hiwa curls in on herself and shoves her face further into her pillow.

"Come on."

"No," Hiwa whines.

"You're going to thank me when we get to the performance on time and get decent seats."

"You don't know that."

The bed dips by her knee. "I do," he says. "Don't make me take your pillow, too."

And when he's this close, even without trying, Hiwa catches his scent.

It has her hiding her face in her pillow for a whole other reason.

Stuck in her nose is the distinctive smell of sex intermingled with the smell of Kakashi. Any remnants of sleep are long gone, now, and the urge to cackle hits her. She resists, though she knows her face is as red as a tomato.

On one hand, she's surprised that Kakashi, of all people, would devolve to having sex with a mission partner _mid-mission_. He's militant when it comes to carrying out missions. But on the other, the smug asshole side of him makes her think that he's the type to have a quickie in the broom closet and then carry on as if nothing happened, just to get it out of the way. Though, she supposes there's a certain militancy, as well, to taking care of an urge before it can become a distraction.

The thought of Kakashi and Genma doing it in a broom closet is one that has her flipping so that her back is to Genma and the pillow is on her head instead of under it.

_Don't think about it. Don't you dare!_

_You've got enough dirty thoughts already, why on earth are you adding fuel to that fire?_

"You… alright?"

"Fine," Hiwa says, her voice completely neutral. "Tired. Just give me another couple of minutes, okay?"

"Sure."

He drags his hand over her calf as he gets up and a whole flock of goosebumps rise up along her skin.

She wants to ask him. She _does_. But she knows he won't give her a straight answer, and he won't appreciate the prying.

So she takes a deep breath of the fabric softener that lingers in the pillow to cover up the smell of sex and Kakashi and Genma from her nose and forces herself to get up and keep on with her day.

.

.

"So, Genma and I fucked."

Hiwa freezes. "Uh."

He smiles at her. "Oh, cute. We're acting surprised." Kakashi hums, deep in his throat, and Hiwa hates how attractive the sound actually is because she's already flustered. "If you want to act like you didn't already know that's fine. But I know you know. And I wanted to get it off my chest before you could ask."

Thankfully, since she's in full traditional attire, she's got her trusty hand fan. She whips it out and covers her face, fanning herself idly, because she doesn't want Kakashi to see how red her cheeks have gotten.

She's not in the furisode from the festival—that's already back in the possession of the old lady. This is a cute little yukata, nice and breathable with how hot today's been. She picked it up when she was returning the furisode, just in case she found that something else more formal came up.

The money doesn't matter much—the village will reimburse her because it's a mission expense.

More, she wasn't sure she was going to ever wear it, honestly. The combination of teal in the backdrop and the bright yellow sunflowers printed all over it isn't one she'd normally opt for. But Genma seemed to like it and now here she is. And she has to admit, having now put it on and pulled her hair into a bun with a yellow pin stuck through it, a dusting of makeup on her face, he made a good choice. The full package isn't too shabby.

Genma's off getting their seats. She was sent here to see if Kakashi wanted to come along with them.

This had _not _been a part of that plan and right now she doesn't think she can see Genma and Kakashi in the same room without her mind going to really dumb, terrible places, and it's probably for the best that Kakashi isn't there.

She'll lie and say he didn't want to come. Or that he wasn't in his room.

That's easier to explain than the truth, at this point.

She turns on her heel to go when she hears Kakashi ask, "Aren't you going to mark your territory?"

She whirls around to stare at him. "What?"

Face bored, he looks up at her, though she can see the sharp undercurrent in his eye. "Jealous lover? Angry that I've taken your man? Intending to proclaim what's yours?"

Hiwa almost gapes. She's too well trained to stoop to such levels, but she gets close, and she's once again grateful that her fan is blocking the view. "No? Why would I do that? I'm…" She fans herself. "You and Genma are… two consenting adults. If you want to do _those things _and can do it without it getting in the way of the mission, I have no complaints."

Because Hiwa feels a lot of things at the thought of Genma and Kakashi getting intimate, but jealousy isn't one of them. It just… doesn't feel right, to her, to get jealous over that. She has no claim over him. She doesn't _own _him. She just happens to be, well, very attracted to him. And Kakashi, unfortunately. But that's it's own can of worms.

"Curious," Kakashi says. He tilts his head. "You're into him."

"Am I that obvious?"

"No. I'm just intimately aware that your type is tall, dashing, and damaged."

"That's the most unflattering way you could have described it."

"And yet, you're not denying it."

She wishes she could but she _can't_.

"Young love," Kakashi says. "How adorable."

"This isn't _love_."

"That's not what Jiraiya's going to say."

Well. Since he kept her here, she might as well see if she can use this situation to her advantage. Make the best of what she's endured.

"And to think," she drawls, fanning herself, "here I was, about to invite you to come with me and Genma to a lovely performance down in the ballroom—"

"Ooo, how boring."

"—featuring the woman who played the female lead in the play version of Icha Icha Paradise that trouped around Fire Country last year."

Kakashi grows still and Hiwa lets loose a vicious grin behind her fan.

"Is that so?"

"Yep. A shame that you've treated me so unfavourably."

"... what do you want?"

And though a small part of her is tempted, she doesn't needle him for more information about the history he and Genma have. She'll stick by the fact that that's not her place to stick her nose, curious as she is about all of it.

But, on the note of things that ought to be kept secret.

Two options stick out to her.

One is to demand that he keep his mouth shut about all of this to Jiraiya. The other, though?

"Swear that you'll keep what happened on our last mission to yourself."

"What?" he asks. "Are you embarrassed of me?"

Hiwa makes a face. "It was just… messy. And not something I ever want to talk about."

What better word is there than 'messy' to describe a grief-fueled, drunken makeout session in some backwater bar in Wind Country?

The only thing that topped her embarrassment of that incident was her annoyance with Jiraiya for having sent her on the damn mission in the first place after he'd agreed to keep her out of Wind Country. And she can get it, logically. He didn't have many female agents, and he especially didn't have many female agents with the contacts necessary to perform the mission. The only other one had been already off undercover, uncontactable by Jiraiya.

So, she doesn't hold it against him, that he broke the promise.

But she'll never let go of the fact that he had to go and _turn it into a book._

She and Kakashi were aged up a good ten years. Their names were changed. The mission was warped beyond recognition, for the sake of village security. Generally, a lot of the key details had been swapped out.

Enough of it is the same, though. The two characters being undercover in a place that contains nothing but bad memories for the heroine. A mission where they're playing at being in a relationship. Drama. Intrigue. And on the way back, the two characters get drunk and make out over their mutual damage.

All because she hinted at something in her mission report and when asked, Kakashi spilled the beans.

She ended up sending Rei to piss all over Jiraiya's place while he was out of the village for a few months—as it turned out, all the security seals were designed to keep ninja out. Not ninken. So, it wasn't too much trouble for Rei to hop in through his window a few times a week and let loose on the house. For the entire time he was gone.

He sent her a bill for the cost of cleaning the house out and replacing all his furniture.

She gave it right back to him, tucked inside a copy of the book.

Jiraiya did eventually apologize and the conversation's never come up again. She's forgiven him, since she considers them even enough and because the fact that the book is based on their mission isn't known; it wasn't a source of public humiliation.

But she's never forgotten.

Which is why she _is _tempted to twist Kakashi's arm into staying quiet about this mission. Because she has no doubt Kakashi will give Jiraiya all of the illicit details and she doesn't have faith that Jiraiya won't repeat his past sins. He'd be sneakier about it, no doubt. But she's certain he'll do it again.

Problem is, the closer threat is Genma because Kakashi can and will tell Genma _everything _about that book if he thinks it can get under her skin. And she'd rather nobody ever knows about what went down between her and Kakashi because even a year later, Hiwa still doesn't quite know what to make of it, herself. It took her _months _to reason her way out of that crush.

Is this going to be a trend for her, now? Anytime a guy kisses her she's instantly stuck crushing on them?

But she knows that's not an accurate representation of the whole situation. There was more to it, with Kakashi, just like there's more to it with Genma.

She's snapped out of her thoughts when Kakashi asks, "Going to break my ribs again if I say no?"

"That was an accident. Though, if it _does_ happen again, I can promise it'll be on purpose this time."

"Kinky."

"_Kakashi_."

"Mah, you could have just asked me to keep it to myself."

"We both know that's a lie."

Kakashi considers. "Yeah, it is."

"So? We got a deal?"

"Fine."

.

.

The sounds of crickets and cicadas permeate the air as Hiwa and Genma stroll through the garden, their path lit by a series of electric lamps and fireflies. It's the same route they took on their first day exploring the resort.

It's crazy, how different things can look when night falls and the world becomes emptier. There's nobody else on the path or out lounging on the grass this late. It's just the two of them, walking side-by-side down the paved path.

"What did you think?" Genma asks.

"It was fun," she says. "Kind of stupid. But in a good way, I think."

"I had no idea it was going to be a comedy. The synopsis on the cards they handed out made it sound like it was a tragedy."

"Yeah. I'm a little miffed about that."

"You want to get your heart ripped out?"

Hiwa shrugs. "What's life without a bit of heartache?"

"Gonna have to disagree with you, there."

"Life sad enough already?"

"I mean. Yeah."

She cringes at that. "Sorry. That… was in bad taste."

But he smiles at her, rueful humour to it, and shakes his head. "You're fine. I've both heard and said far worse."

"Really? You've never come off as the graveyard giggles type."

"I'm not anymore. But I was, when it was fresher." He shrugs. "Made it easier. A way to lighten up the load, you know?"

"If you look for the light, you can often find it. But if you look for the dark, that is all you will ever see," Hiwa says, the words leaving her mouth as if of their own will.

"Where'd you hear that one? A book?"

Hiwa runs her hand up her arm. "Maybe? Think it might have been a show, though."

She wracks her brain, but she can't for the life of her remember where it came from or which life it was. Probably not this one—she hasn't had a lot of TV exposure. And she does remember it was some old man with a wicked beard.

"I always read the pain away," Hiwa says. She twists the bell sleeves of her yukata around in her hands, looking down. "Better to be somewhere else, you know?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, the upside to that, though, was that it showed me how much I love reading." She grins at him. "And I do, in fact, read more than romance."

"Favourite genre, outside of it?"

"I'm a fan of mystery books. Smart ones, though. It's just annoying if I can figure it out by the first page."

"I imagine you don't find too many that meet your standard, then."

"Nah. But there are a few."

"Mystery books always feel like too much work, to me."

"You wanna just turn your brain off?"

"No harm in that."

She elbows him gently. "I take it that's why you're a smut fan?"

Genma snorts. His hands are tucked into his sleeves, but he lets them drop.

Hiwa opens her mouth to dig into him about it when one of his arms snakes around her waist and holds her close to his side as they walk, and Hiwa's brain short circuits.

There's nobody around. No cover to sell; no part to play.

So, why is his arm around her waist?

And even now, after the countless times he's held her close like this, the fireworks spark off into an overdrawn explosion at the way it feels to have him touch her, and all she wants is to wrap her arms around his torso and hold on for dear life.

She never thought he was doing anything other than selling a cover—she was the poor fuck who got her feelings into things. Not him. It was her problem, and hers alone.

What saves her from delving into this too deeply—for now, because she knows that there's no way this is going to die here—is that, underneath the cicadas and other ambient night noises, Hiwa's ears pick up the barest hint of voices.

There shouldn't be any voices. It's two in the morning. There isn't anybody else outside at this hour.

Hiwa snaps out of her daze and gathers her bearings.

She angles her ear towards the direction of the noise and adds some extra chakra to them. She can't make out specific words, or anything, but she's able to more clearly identify the sound as human voices from somewhere ahead.

They're near where the gardener was. Behind it. That was another couple of minutes down the path.

And the image hits Hiwa—Blondie, knelt down with her hand on the ground, before she turned to stare at Genma and Hiwa.

_Oh_.

Moving on instinct as the memory runs through her, Hiwa detaches herself from Genma and wanders ahead.

Distantly, she hears him say, "Hiwa."

She holds up a hand. Genma gets the message and stays quiet.

Hiwa dares to add a sliver more chakra to her ears, on top of what she's already augmenting her hearing with. The start of a headache comes on from how loud the cicadas and grasshoppers and other nightlife sound with this much chakra, but she goes through the process of filtering them out in favour of what she does want: the voices.

She gets to about where she remembers Blondie standing and kneels down. Sure enough, the voices grow clearer.

"... did you… word… food?"

"Haven't… two bowls… cheapskates, not feeding… happen…"

"... worst."

Hiwa stiffens.

There are people down there.

She pulls out her fan and jams it into the dirt, not wanting to use her hands, and about three inches deep she hits something that seems to vibrate on contact. Which isn't what a rock would do. That feels and _sounds _like metal to her, the dim _clang _of the butt of her fan making contact.

Well, looks like she knows how Kakashi and Genma are going to get into the basement.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you a week early by commission!

_We are all mortal until the first kiss._

* * *

"It was metal," Hiwa says.

She tries to rub the dirt out of her yukata with a warm cloth and soapy water, but the thing's ruined. There are two circles of green and brown, grass and mud stains, where her knees are, and her sleeves are caked in mud.

She should have been more careful. The thing grew on her, by the end of the night.

"And you think that that was the entrance?" he asks.

"Or somewhere close to it," she says, scrubbing at the stains. She's putting her core into it.

Genma scratches his chin. "Building's old, isn't it?"

"Looks like it."

"Older buildings, especially ones from the Warring Clans or earlier, tend to have basements with hidden escape routes," he says. He smirks. "Unfortunate for them that generally, those escape routes are also an easy way in if the wrong person finds them."

"Huh. Makes sense."

Sighing, she sets the cloth down and stares at the poor yukata.

Better to focus on the yukata than the question of what _exactly _is going on between her and Genma. How is she supposed to handle this whole crush-feeling-_thing _situation, now that it's not only a 'her' problem?

For a second, her eyes shoot up from her yukata to him. He's staring off into space. She purses her lips and tosses the yukata in the direction of the laundry bin, shoving the whole situation out of her mind.

Not now. More important things to deal with.

"Kakashi's still planning on going ahead with scouting in a couple of days?" she asks.

"As far as I know. We'll probably go two days from now, around this time."

"Well. At least now, I have some kind of lead to give him."

"It'll make things a bit easier," Genma says. "I honestly have no idea what Kakashi had in mind otherwise."

"I'm guessing there has to be a different entrance though, right?" she asks. "Because the idea would be to funnel people out of the building through a hidden entrance, then escape through the second one. A way to get out of the building without using the front door."

"Potentially. But they might have completely blocked it off if they didn't think they were ever going to use it."

"They would _need _to use it though," she says. "If the idea is that they're sneaking ninja out of the building without leaving any trail. Even at like, four in the morning, there's at least a handful of people sitting around in that lobby."

Genma clicks his teeth against his senbon.

She can't imagine any ninja would pass up on the chance to have such an easy way out. While a few people hanging around in a lobby might not seem like a big deal, you never know if those few people might be spies. She and Genma are a case in point—you never know who's in your midst. And infiltrators work by that principle.

If Genma's right and there _is _a second entrance hidden somewhere in the hotel, Hiwa's confident that the Kusa nin are using it.

"I'm going to go and get Kakashi," Genma says.

.

.

"They're using the entrance in the hotel," Kakashi says. "But that's not the one we're going to want to use."

Genma knits her eyebrows together. "Why not?"

Hiwa taps her finger against her knee, lips pursed as she thinks it through. And… "We know they have the sealing capacity, given that they've privacy sealed the entire basement," she says, thinking aloud more than anything. "And if they've gotten somebody capable of doing _privacy _seals, they've also probably gotten security seals, too."

"Aren't those more complicated?" Genma asks.

Before Hiwa can answer, Kakashi pipes up, "Less, actually. Fewer factors to account for because it's a simple input-output style seal. Input one action, output another action. Privacy seals have to factor multiple forms of input that won't necessarily have the same output."

Hiwa nods. She doubts she could have given quite as eloquent an answer, but she has a grasp of the concept. Partially from bugging Jiraiya into giving her tips and tricks every so often and partially from having done her own research when she felt the odd urge arise. "So if they've taken the time to stick privacy seals all along the perimeter of this thing, they'll stick a few on this door to keep any unsuspecting idiot from stumbling in. And to incapacitate any suspecting idiot."

"But they probably won't bother adding any security seals to the hidden entrance," Kakashi says.

Genma nods slowly, picking up their line of thought. "No reason to seal something that's impossible to find."

"So that's the plan for tomorrow night," Hiwa says. "Try and locate the exit."

And the night after that, go in to scout as per Kakashi's deadline. They're still without word from Konoha and she sees no reason why Kakashi would change his mind now. Might as well try and get the way paved for them now so that the operation is easy later.

"When I said that this was the plan," Hiwa mumbles, "I meant for you."

Voice equally low, Kakashi says, "Mah, where's the fun in that?"

Hiwa rubs at her eyes, dragging her heels as they walk down the garden path. She scowls into the darkness. "Me? In my bed? Asleep at three in the morning? That sure sounds like fun to me." She whines softly. There's nobody to hear the undignified noise and judge her for it, other than Kakashi. "You don't even need my help? Your senses are as strong as mine, if not stronger."

"Ah, but then, who will keep me entertained?" Kakashi says. "This all sounds very boring to do alone. Don't want to leave an old man to his own devices, eh? Might do something you'll regret and I'll laugh about."

"You're embarrassing, but you're not old. You're only a year older than me."

Kakashi waves a hand. "Semantics."

"Is it?" she asks. She tugs on her braids, her eyes sweeping around the area. "Is it really?"

From nowhere, Kakashi pulls out a book and hits Hiwa on top of the head with it. "Bad dog."

She stops dead in her tracks. Calm as a summer sea, she regards him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"No, you're not," Kakashi says cheerfully.

"You going to stop me? How?"

He smiles at her. "Leave now and I'll send Genma a copy of Icha Icha Undercover, with the most true-to-life passages highlighted."

Her eyes fall shut and she breathes out from her nose, long and deep.

Leave it to Kakashi to find a loophole in less than a day.

"Fine."

"Great," he says, looping his arm through hers. His hold on her is as unbending as a steel girder. "Come along, then."

They make their way towards the spot Hiwa remembers Blondie at—she and Genma didn't stay around very long. She gives a bit more chakra to her eyes to help her see through the darkness and retrace their steps, one step at a time.

Neither of them is in full ninja attire. Hiwa had to dig through her bag a bit to find something that would let her blend in with the dark, and in the end, she went with a black t-shirt and dark blue cotton pants and a dark blue bandana she borrowed from Genma. Though, she's completely unarmed. Kakashi comes closer—he's _definitely _armed, and has on his mask and jonin blues, sans his flak jacket or hitai-ate.

So together, they ghost their way through the gardens.

Once she gets close enough, she starts to hear the voice again, though they sound different tonight.

There's no question it's different people. The question is why there are voices there at all—is it a coincidence that both times she's been here, she's heard people? Or are they stationed near the door as guards?

She has her head cocked and her hearing enhanced with chakra to see if she can make any words out of the garbled noise when Kakashi says, "So, you finally realized Genma has a thing for you, huh?"

Hiwa sighs. She cuts the chakra flow to her ears. "I should have known this is what you meant by entertainment."

"Implying something?"

"You dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to get drama."

"Me?" he asks, deadpan. "I would never." He smiles. "But if you want, I could drag you back to bed for—"

Hiwa's face goes bright red. She hopes the darkness will cover it up, but from the look on Kakashi's face, she knows it doesn't. "Don't finish that sentence. Please."

"Uh-huh."

"Well? Am I right?"

"You're nosy and perverted, is what you are," she says. "Congratulations."

"Always so mean."

With a light step, Hiwa follows the trail of chatter.

The question becomes one of where they are located in relation to the door, at that point. Are they right in front of it? Down the hall from it? A few feet away from it?

She's not familiar with this kind of work, and she has no idea how she can go about uncovering a hidden door. She tugs on her braid again, chewing her lip. Theoretically, the door is going to be denser than the rest of the metal underneath them. If she gives it a good tap, the way the sound reverberates will be different. But she doesn't think she can just sound her way towards it. One or two sounds can be pushed off as flukes—but a series of them might arouse suspicion.

"Come on," Kakashi says. From the way his mask shifts, she thinks he's pouting. "Tell your old flame your relationship woes."

"Can't tell you about what doesn't exist," Hiwa whispers, knelt. She runs her hand over the grass the way she saw Blondie doing it, hoping she might feel a seam or a mechanism or _something_. "And 'old flame'? I don't think that's what you count as."

"You mean to tell me being married doesn't count as a relationship?"

"So that has gone around."

"I'm insulted that you think I wouldn't have found out on my own."

"That's fine."

She puts her ear to the ground. The voices are right under her.

Now, which way does she go?

"I'm also insulted that you don't consider me an old flame," he says.

She's about ninety-nine percent sure that's pure sarcasm as Kakashi doesn't _have _friends, by his own choice. Hiwa rolls her eyes. "Sorry. How dare I?"

"You spend a month acting like somebody's boyfriend, make out with them in a cheap hotel room, endure a heavy heart-to-heart with them," he says, ticking them off on his fingers, "and this is how they repay you?"

"The sibling mission was better," Hiwa says. "It let me inflict your particular brand of annoying on somebody other than me, for once."

And that's a dirty lie.

Not because she didn't appreciate being able to treat Kakashi like the annoying brat he is and have it be a part of her cover, but because spending a month kissing Hatake Kakashi is no hardship, and despite the baggage, neither was that night they made out.

Granted, he was as annoying—if not _more so_—then, and he oscillated between startling coldness and intolerable snark rather than staying primarily in the latter. And there was the whole issue of the mission being in Wind Country, with the two of them undercover as a couple travelling around, selling silk for Hiwa's 'father'. That was a special kind of kick in the teeth, given that they completed the mission the day before the anniversary of her _actual _father's death.

Hiwa pauses as the thought rolls through her mind.

In retrospect, the fact that she insisted on stopping at a random hole-in-the-wall bar in Wind Country when the tenth of October rolled around isn't surprising at all.

She remembers how that night last year with Kakashi was the first time in two years she felt like somebody else got it—that there was somebody else out there who knew that all-consuming guilt. How sometimes, guilt is like an avalanche, where you can run and run and run but at some point, the snow is going to catch up with you and bury you and somebody either has to dig you out, or you have to wait for spring to come along and melt the snow.

She spends the year running. From Shinji, Hiro, what happened with Hitomi and all the baggage that comes along with her mom. By the time the tenth of October comes, Hiwa's out of steam and she goes under.

And last year was the first time somebody was there to dig her out, even though she doubts he was even trying to.

"Right in the heart."

"Are you going to help?" she asks, hoping her voice doesn't betray the place her thoughts had lingered. "Or am I doing this myself?"

He smiles.

Hiwa rolls her eyes. "Oh. Great."

"Tell me the deal with you and Genma."

Giving Kakashi any kind of material sounds like a nightmare. Once he gets going, he won't stop.

But she's ready to get some sleep. She doubts she's going to sleep well tomorrow, with Genma and Kakashi out and about scouting. Getting a good night's sleep _tonight _is what she'll need to be ready for tomorrow night and the stress that's going to bring.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "I realized that this… I don't know. Crush. Might be mutual yesterday."

"Oh? Details, please."

"You got enough. I'm trying not to think about this, as it is. This mission's too important to be distracted by something stupid like this."

For some reason, that makes Kakashi grow smug.

"What?" Hiwa asks.

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"Kakashi…"

"Now, then. The exit." He points a bit to her left. "It's right there."

"... what?"

"There's a charge of chakra around that square of dirt. Residual, from continued jutsu use on the one section. I'm guessing it can be lifted off with a jutsu and then there's a hatch underneath."

Hiwa rocks back on her haunches. She squints at him. "You asshole," she mumbles.

Because she has enhanced senses, but she's never been a chakra sensor. Can't sense chakra to save her life. He knows that, too. He knows more about her strengths, weaknesses, and abilities than almost anybody else alive, from the missions they've taken together. Not that that's a feat, with how few people she takes missions with and her non-existent social life. But it means enough that from the second she got them here, he knew that she wasn't going to be able to find the exit.

Kakashi shrugs.

She's too tired for this.

Without another word, Hiwa gets up and makes her way back toward the hotel, and Kakashi trails along behind her.

Seeing Genma in full ninja attire after seeing him in nothing but kimonos for the last two and a half weeks is jarring.

He has his hair pulled back into a bun with a bandana over top, a black shirt and black trousers, and plated fingerless gloves. He's armed to the teeth, too, with kunai and senbon strapped to his upper arm and thigh on the right side of his body, along with a curved dagger hanging off his waist and the pockets on his trousers that he filled with other supplies.

It's only a scouting expedition, but they have to be prepared for a fight to break out.

Which Hiwa won't be around for.

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall beside the door, watching as Genma double checks his loadout. It's almost three in the morning and she's dressed for the hour, with her hair in braided pigtails, her sleep shirt on, and a pair of fluffy grey slippers to keep her feet warm.

She's exhausted.

Genma had told her to just go to sleep because there wasn't any point in both of them losing sleep tonight, but she couldn't do it. Even her body can't shut off when it's filled with nerves like this.

The plan is simple; there's little chance of anything going wrong. She and Kakashi were able to figure out the mechanism that keeps the door hidden underneath the grass—or at least, locate it and guess at how to open it. Part of their scouting job will be testing those guesses and if none of them prove fruitful, taking a few more shots on the fly. Worst case scenario—outside of combat—is that they go home empty-handed.

Hiwa chews on her lip, half tempted to pull out a cigarette, at this rate.

She has a microphone. She'll be able to listen in the entire time. If anything goes wrong, she'll know, and she'll be able to take action.

Didn't keep this whole thing from being nerve-wracking.

"Think I'm good," Genma says, clipping up the last of his pockets. He presses a hand to his ear. "Kakashi?"

Through her earpiece, in her hand but not in her ear quite yet, she can hear Kakashi's clipped reply of, "Ready."

"Cool. Meet you out there."

"Off you go, then," Hiwa says. She punctuates it with a smile, her voice carefree despite the weight on her chest. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Remember to use protection."

He scoffs. "Yeah, mom."

Softly, she says, "And be safe."

His smile is gentle and crooked and it makes her heart melt into her feet. "'Course."

.

.

The plan is simple but risky.

Genma and Kakashi get in through the hatch. Kakashi hits the guards with genjutsu—something about tricking their eyes into not seeing Genma and Kakashi—and the two sneak past. Rinse and repeat when necessary while they get the layout of the basement and assess the level of threat the Kusa nin present. Get out again.

And if things go wrong? They move ahead before they get their okay and clean out the basement. Hopefully coming out no worse for wear. Kakashi will get a slap on the wrist because Hiruzen has always had a soft spot for him, just like Jiraiya does, and they move on with their lives.

Hiwa takes a breath, sat cross-legged on top of the bed.

_Don't get ahead of myself._

.

.

The sound of metal hinges creaking. Kakashi's voice crackles over the earpiece when he says, "Eyes to the Right, Ten Degrees Off Jutsu."

Hiwa rolls her eyes at the name. Who gives a jutsu a name that long?

Seconds tick by.

"Initial genjutsu application is successful. Move forward."

"Roger."

.

.

"Bigger than I thought it'd be."

"Mah, not the first time I've heard that."

Hiwa cackles, unable to help herself, and she hears Genma groan.

.

.

"Right door, now," Kakashi whispers, the edge on his voice sharp enough to slice through steel.

Hiwa stiffens.

She hears a door open, shut, and then the sound of the two of them scrambling around the room.

"One coming down either side," Kakashi says. "We'll have to—_scatter._"

More shuffling around.

Her breath catches in her throat and Hiwa listens, stiff, as there's a faint creak and the sound of footsteps.

"Man, really wish they'd quit keeping us up this late. This was supposed to be the bitch baby posting, you know? Cushy. 'It'll be fun' they said, 'you'll get to sit around in the hot springs all day' they said. You know where I sit all day? On a fucking stool."

"Right? Fucking stupid." A pause. "What did you say you were getting out of here?"

"Left my report on the table. Another stupid thing."

"They're still making you do reports?"

"Yeah? Aren't you doing them?"

"Nope."

"_What_?"

"I dunno, man—oh, hey. There it is."

"Grab it for me?"

"Sure."

Footsteps again, growing close to either Kakashi or Genma, she can't tell. Papers rustling.

"Thank the Kami. Junko was going to have my hide if I lost this."

"Oh, dude. She scares me so bad."

"Same."

"But I think I'd also like her to crush my head with her thighs."

"_Same_."

"Like, she scares me but—"

The voices die away and the door falls shut again.

Somebody lets out a breath. "Holy fuck," Genma mutters. "Okay."

"Let's keep moving," Kakashi says, clipped.

.

.

Genma enters the room again at five in the morning, his shoulders drooping and his head dipped. He's slow to enter, and his eyebrows go up when he sees Hiwa sitting up on the bed, the earbud and wires laid out over her knee.

Her hair's out of its braids—she's been unweaving and reweaving them for the last hour, and she's in an unweaving stage, right now.

"Hey," he says. "Thought you'd be asleep."

Hiwa chews the inside of her cheek.

A brief war goes on inside her head, but _fuck it_ she thinks to herself.

He's standing in the doorway, the door closed behind him. His shoes are on and he's fully armed. And when she doesn't say anything, he frowns.

"What's—"

Hiwa gets up, crosses the room to him, and wraps her arms around his torso. Her forehead rests against his chest, on the little section of it right below where his collarbone branches out.

"Whoa, hey," he says. "Hey. It's fine."

"I know it's fine," she answers. Her voice is as steady and monotone as a flat-lined heart monitor. "You and Kakashi are big boys who can handle yourselves perfectly well. You're both skilled, and you know what you're doing, and you would have gotten yourselves out, one way or another."

_But damn did that still scare me._

.

.

Genma can feel her heart beating against his chest.

It rattles against the top of his ribcage, the beat of it rapid and unsteady.

He wonders how that must have felt. On the other side of the line, unable to go in and help if needed, but still able to hear if things go wrong. He thinks that might have torn him apart, that kind of helplessness.

.

.

One of his arms winds around her waist and the other cups the back of her head. His chin settles on the crown of her head. "Sorry," he mumbles. His breath breezes over her scalp. "Sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. You don't. You—literally, you guys did nothing wrong."

"Know that. Doesn't mean I can't feel bad that we gave you a bit of a heart attack, there."

Hiwa's grip tightens a bit, and in response, Genma's fingers begin to run through her hair. The feel of it sends shivers down Hiwa's spine.

And being held like this feels so good, and once again, there's nobody here to see it but them, no reason for this intimacy but each other's comfort and Hiwa feels so safe and warm and comfortable with him curled around her like a barrier from the rest of the world.

And she just wants to stand here and enjoy it.

She wants to pull him back into the bed with her, where they can let this night end. She wants to keep to what she said to Kakashi, about not broaching the topic until they're back home.

But she can't keep treating this like it's nothing.

"I think we need to talk about this," she says to him. "This whole. Whatever's going on with us, thing."

He stiffens. His hand, bunched in her hair, goes limp.

Hiwa slides one of her hands up and down his back, and she can feel the tension in his shoulders ease. "I wasn't going to say anything until the mission was over, because there's so much at stake. And I didn't want to try and deal with this, and then end up distracted."

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Me too."

"So it's not all in my head? That there's… something here?"

"Thought you were imagining it?"

"I thought it was all me until a couple days ago, in the garden."

He huffs a laugh. "Gave myself away, huh?"

"A bit. And I mean, this, too."

"I don't think I can explain what's going on on my end, right now," he admits. "I've been trying not to think about it, too. I didn't want to try and gauge what you were doing until I could be sure that the mission wasn't clouding them."

"Oh. Smart."

"I thought so."

And she has to laugh at that, too.

She feels stupid for having left the conversation for this long, even if she can understand her logic over it. Most of the legwork for the mission is behind them, at this point. They're close to being done, and less for them to mess up over all of this messiness. But with how easy it went?

Well. Then again, hindsight is always 20/20.

They stand there for a few more minutes before Hiwa forces herself to pull back.

"I don't think we have to do anything about this. Actually, we probably shouldn't, yet," she says. "I just… wanted to acknowledge it."

Genma nods. He cups her cheek, and the rough calluses on his palms are at odds with the feather-soft touch. "Better not to leave anything unsaid."

"Yeah."

His expression grows cocky. "Then I guess I won't say anything else."

And he leans forward and brushes his lips against hers. It's barely even a kiss, but there's something so sweet about it that Hiwa has to laugh.

When Genma snags her around the small of her back and kisses her again, firmer and than before, she's not laughing anymore. His hands are dangerously close to her butt and there's _tongue _this time, and Hiwa's content to let him take her along for the ride.

She makes a sound—some kind of weird moan-sigh hybrid—and she freezes. Her face burns.

Genma stops, too, and now _he's _the one laughing.

"I don't know what that was," Hiwa mumbles.

Genma hums. "Was cute, though."

"You think?"

"I'm pretty sure it was, yeah."

"Then why don't you try and make me do it again?"

"Gladly."

.

.

For the first time since getting to the resort, Genma goes to sleep with Hiwa held in his arms like she's a stuffed animal he doesn't want to lose in the middle of the night. For her part, she's gotten herself wrapped around him koala-style, one arm around his torso, the other fisted in his shirt, and her leg hooked through his.

There's a warmth in his chest, nestled deep in there, and he wonders if now that the flames have engulfed him, he's going to start burning from the inside out, too.

He doesn't know how he feels about that. The fact that Hiwa seems to be in about the same boat makes this easier, lightens the burden. There's somebody else to help bale out this sinking ship.

Neither of them knows what this is. But they both know it's there, at least.

And for now, that has to count for something, right?


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Wise men are not pacifists; they are merely less likely to jump

up and retaliate against their antagonizers.

* * *

Genma wakes up to the sounds of footsteps outside the door, followed by the sharp rap of somebody knocking. He rolls his head on his pillow. The light green numerals displayed on the clock at their bedside read nine fifty-four in the morning, and while that's not a lot of sleep, it's enough that he knows he won't be falling asleep again.

The knocks come again.

He extricates himself from Hiwa, not bothering to be careful because, by this point, he knows he's not going to wake her up.

Opening the door a crack reveals an impatient looking messenger, a sealed envelope in his hands. "Murai Kokona?" he says.

"My wife," Genma answers. "I'll take it for her."

"Very well."

The messenger slips it through the opening and goes off on his way.

Genma kicks the door shut behind him with the heel of his foot, his hands occupied with opening up the envelope. Sure enough, it's from the Taki agent.

Curiosity has him skim the letter. Basic and unassuming, he reads a short reminder to get enough sleep, enjoy the free food while they can, and bring back a souvenir for him and the rest of the family.

Genma tosses the letter onto the vanity and wanders back over to the bed. He settles on the edge of it. In her sleep, Hiwa mumbles something, nonsense that he can barely hear, and Genma smiles to himself.

He reaches out and brushes her hair out of her face.

He doesn't want to do it, but he knows he has to wake her up.

The clock blinks as it changes from nine fifty-seven to nine fifty-eight, and Genma decides that while he _does _have to wake her up, he can at least give her a few more minutes to sleep while he goes and gets ready.

.

.

Hiwa doesn't know—or care—what time it is when she feels somebody shaking her shoulders because whatever time it is, it's too early. She groans and bats the hand away, rolling over.

"Come on. You gotta get up."

"Do I?" she mumbles back, the words slurred.

"Yep."

"Tired."

"I know, but I need you to get up."

Hiwa curls into the blankets and tries to pull it up over her head. But she can feel sleep starting to slip away from her. It's already bright out, and the light pierces through the cotton blankets, right into her eyes even as she shuts them against it.

"Why?" she whines.

"Taki letter came."

_Shit_.

Groaning again, louder this time, she pokes her head out of the blankets and peers at the clock on the bedside, eyes narrowed. Ten-thirty. Five and a half hours of sleep, if even that. And without much sleep the night before, Hiwa can feel the ache in her knees and the stiffness in her back from the continued exhaustion.

But Genma's right.

He grins at her. "And the bear peeks out of her cave."

Hiwa sits up and tries to get her hair out of her face, to little avail. The battle against the thick, knotted mess before she's had a chance to brush it is a losing one.

Blearily, she stares at him.

"I'm gonna go get Kakashi," he says. "You gonna fall asleep again in the five minutes that takes?"

She sighs. "I'll try not to."

"Good."

True to her word, once Genma leaves she forces herself to get up out of bed and get a few of the basics out of the way. She brushes her teeth, combs out her hair enough that she can throw it into a messy bun on her head, and splashes some cold water on her face.

She's closer to being awake when Genma and Kakashi enter the room again, though it's a stretch to say she's all the way there. There's a filter of sleep over her vision and her movements are sloppy at best.

"Morning," Kakashi says.

Hiwa tosses the letter at him by way of greeting and drops down into the plush of blankets gathered on the front half of the bed.

When he stares down at it, eyebrow raised, Hiwa rolls her eyes. "You can translate that," she says. "You know the Village Code."

"You can do it faster."

"Not half asleep, I can't."

Kakashi rolls his eye.

Hiwa curls up into a ball in the blankets and shuts her eyes. Tired as she is, she doesn't let herself fall asleep again.

It takes Kakashi somewhere in the range of ten minutes to work it out. There's a heavy silence around the room while he works his way through it, stood in the middle of the room while Genma settles himself on the vanity bench.

"They secured a new owner and have the entire situation laid out, and are going to send them off to the resort within two days. We have to have the cleanout finished by then. They're making their move on the owner tomorrow."

"Tomorrow night, then," Hiwa says.

"Tonight," Kakashi says. "We're not pushing this off. Especially because if they move on the owner and word gets back to the resort in time, they're going to go on high alert."

"I think I'm with Kakashi. We're not on their radar, at this point, but there's no reason to tempt fate. Better to just get it done now."

Both of them going against her is vaguely annoying, but Hiwa doesn't have the energy to voice a counter-argument. If she were more awake she might be able to see their side, anyways. "Sure. Whatever." She yawns.

"We'll hit in the late evening, but not in the middle of the night. Operations like these expect that anybody attacking is going to want to work in the cover of night—security's tighter. Seven tonight, we'll move in," Kakashi says. Hiwa feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she cracks open an eye to stare at Kakashi. "And you're going to be on hand, Hiwa."

She stiffens.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Kakashi asks. His voice is hard and she _knows _he's expecting her to put up a fight.

That's also annoying. Not unfair, given what happened the last time she and Kakashi were on a mission that required her to kill and he witnessed the lengths Hiwa will go to avoid taking a life unnecessarily. Just annoying.

"If it needs to happen, it'll happen," she says, her voice no more forgiving. Genma's eyes widen a fraction. "I'll do what the village needs me to do."

Kakashi claps his hands and the tension dissipates as if dismissed. "Good. Then you kids have fun. Be safe. No making babies, hmm? Mission babies are always messy. Meanwhile, I'm going to go and enjoy the coed bathhouses and take a trip to the casino."

He slips out of the room without another word.

"He knows," Genma says.

"Are you surprised?" she asks.

She shoves her face into the blankets, her eyes falling shut again, but the hair on her neck doesn't go down.

Hiwa sighs. She waves a hand vaguely towards Genma. "Let me have another couple hours of sleep and I'll explain that."

"More sleep sounds like a good idea."

.

.

"I think I surprised him when I said 'no'; I don't think he's used to people outright refusing an order from him."

"In fairness to him, generally, when your commanding officer points at somebody and says 'kill them', the answer's a given."

A faint smile on her face, Hiwa mildly says, "I get why he was mad, and I don't blame him. Or why anybody would be mad." She shrugs one shoulder, as best she can strewn on top of Genma like a blanket. "But it's not my fault that Jiraiya didn't warn him that I have a history of this. And I was never coy about the fact that I didn't think killing an innocent woman just because her _husband _screwed Konoha over is the fair way to go about things."

With her head rested on his chest, Hiwa can hear the way Genma's hum rumbles through his torso. She glances up and his face is neutral.

"You don't agree with it," she says.

"I'm an assassin," he says dryly. "The perspective is kind of hard to relate to."

"I know."

"Even if you couldn't find definitive proof, there was enough circumstantial evidence to doubt her innocence. That's enough, for keeping the village safe."

"For you, and for the village."

"But not for you."

"Not always," she says. "Especially not if I'm going to leave a kid orphaned and a mother and father daughterless. That alone—guilty or innocent—always makes me hesitate." She taps her finger against his jaw and he looks at her. "You must've hesitated, before."

He frowns, and she knows she skimmed a nerve. "Of course, I have."

"I just choose to find a workaround."

"Not all of us have that luxury."

"I know," she says. "I don't always have it, either."

"But you've gone out of your way to have it."

"_Never_ at the detriment of the village," she says, and the words come out clipped and sharp and she turns her face into his chest. "Sorry."

His fingers run through her hair and he shifts, sliding himself down on the bed, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

"Everybody does stuff they don't want to do. And I've gotten a reputation for avoiding doing things I don't want to do, even if that means being a bit underhanded. People can feel how they want, about that. But I'd never… I'd never put the village in danger, over it. Because at the end of the day, I know what I signed up for."

Like a good little soldier, if the order is given and she doesn't see an alternative, she'll march.

She doesn't like to kill.

A little bit of trickery here, some manipulation there? Things that won't cause permanent harm to somebody who doesn't deserve it? That's no skin off her back.

But death is a permanent solution to what is often a temporary problem, and maybe it makes her a coward that she chooses to keep her conscience clean of handing out that judgement, even if the sentence is handed down at the beck of the village and not her whim.

That said, some calls you don't ignore. In the same breath that she refuses to take a life unnecessarily, she refuses to recklessly endanger another life for her conscience. She _won't _do it.

This is one of those calls. She would never ignore a call like this.

And she explained as much to Kakashi, all that time ago. He may not have agreed with her then and she knows he doesn't agree with her now, but he _knows _that she would never cross that line because she spelled as much out for him, and that's where her annoyance stems from.

"Like this mission. I know that if you guys run into trouble and need me as backup, I'll have to kill some people." With a bit of a bitter taste in her mouth that taints her words like poison, she says, "I know where I have to leave my conscience at the door and do my duty."

"Better for both of us if things go smoothly, then."

"Cause you and Kakashi less trouble," she says, "cause me less trouble."

He lets his head fall back against the pillow and stares up at the ceiling. "Keep you _out _of trouble."

"Seriously?"

"And I don't mean that in that I don't think you could handle yourself," he says. "I'm not doubting you. I'm recognizing that a dangerous situation is a dangerous situation, and frankly, I know I'll be able to focus better without you in it, too."

She thinks of how it felt being on the outside, while Kakashi and Genma were on the inside. And even knowing they _were _capable, she'd been worried. And he does genuinely seem to think she could do it, which is more than _she _thinks about herself, and she has to smile at that.

"Can't fault you there," she murmurs. "I'm probably going to be worried about you two, no matter how well I can logic around it."

"Kakashi, too?"

She scoffs. "Not him." And she _shouldn't_. But as much as she wants to kick him into a well and put a boulder over the entrance, she does care about him. In a weird, annoying way. "Well, maybe a little," she says. "But I'm pretty sure he could clean this place out on his own if he had to."

"Probably." Genma lifts his head to grin at her. "But. Worried about me?"

Hiwa lifts herself up. She sets one knee on either side of his chest and drops one of her elbows beside his head, so she's hovered over him like a tent. With her hair loose from her bun, it forms a veil around them as she looks down, her nose inches above his. She brushes her thumb against his jaw. The skin is still smooth from when he shaved this morning, and she can make out a tiny scar along his jaw, thin and old.

"Yeah," she says. "Worried about you."

She's lost enough people, already. She doesn't want the universe to take this from her, too, before she's got the chance to see it through. She can't do it, not again. Having love dangled in front of her like a carrot on a stick, always two steps ahead.

She wants to reach out and grab it, then snap the stick over her knee.

He settles his hand over his. His thumb skates over her knuckles, warm and soft. "Well, don't be. I'm not going anywhere."

.

.

Hiwa settles herself on the bench.

She's dressed in a rather bland kimono, unarmed. All she has on her is a book to keep her company while she listens to the earpiece stuck in her ear. The area is empty—most people are off in the dining area, having dinner.

It's just her, her book, and the gentle whisper of the pond as water filters in and out of the pines. And the jamming device stuck in her pocket.

In the corner of her eye, she can see Kakashi and Genma, knelt at the exit.

Kakashi raises his hand to his ear. "_Moving in_," he says, his voice filtering in through her earpiece.

Genma mimics the action, though he doesn't say anything—both of them will have their mics turned on continuously. Better to keep Hiwa updated while their hands are occupied.

Hiwa pushes on the button embedded into the chord of her earpiece. "_On standby_."

"_Heading in three, two, one._"

The line goes dead.

Kakashi pushes his hand through a couple of seals and a chunk of dirt the size of a table flips up like an opened hatch. The two of them duck into it, and not even a second later, Hiwa hears the sounds of metal clashing. Two solid thuds follow.

She grimaces. The grip she has on her book grows into a vice.

_Deep breath._

She closes her eyes and breathes in.

_Deep breath_.

And she breathes out.

She flips open her book to where she has it marked and does her best to focus on the words instead of the sounds of fighting. It's an awful soundtrack to the book, and she's grateful that it's only one ear, and through the other, she can listen to the sounds of the garden.

It could have been minutes that passed by, or it could have been hours. Hiwa doesn't know. But in her peripheral, as she reads, she catches sight of Blondie walking towards her, her posture tight like a viper prepared to strike.

Blondie's gaze is locked on Hiwa.

Hiwa reaches into her pocket, slow and casual, and flicks on the disruptor. Blondie flinches and her eyes narrow on Hiwa.

And Hiwa wants to deal with this on her own. Genma and Kakashi need to focus on the task at hand. So, she sits, her gaze on her book, and waits as Blondie approaches.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_You can never cross the ocean_

_unless you lose sight of the shore._

* * *

Blondie yanks the earpiece out of her ear and tosses it onto the ground with a look of annoyance.

Hiwa slips her hand into the pocket in her kimono and flicks the disruptor off, again, and the sounds of Genma and Kakashi filter back in, no less unpleasant than before. She doubts they even realized she was offline for a few seconds.

"_Forward. Guard, right."_

"_Got it."_

Bathed in the glow of the late evening sun, a golden aura that illuminates her utterly forgettable face and form, Blondie advances. She does so without the grace of the dancer or the power of a fighter. There's nothing particular about her gait. No limp, no pattern. She strides as if she could be walking through a city or the beaten dirt path of a rural farm village, and she wouldn't be out of place in either.

It also makes it impossible for Hiwa to try and gauge her strength. She could be a genin or a jonin. There's no giveaway.

Hiwa holds her ground.

She wonders if Blondie knows what's happening right now, or if this is some kind of grotesquely hilarious coincidence, that Blondie's standing above what will soon be a graveyard of all her comrades and is none the wiser.

"_Back—back._"

"_Shit. Wait, let me_—" _The sound of metal against teeth, and then a distant gurgling noise._

Blondie gets right up beside Hiwa, so much so that her shadow looms over Hiwa and engulfs the book in front of her, lengthened by the hour, before Blondie stops. "I should have trusted my gut, with you."

Hiwa tilts her head. She sets her book aside, looking up and giving Blondie her full attention, a playful smile on her face. "Oh?"

Blondie clicks her tongue. "Come on. None of this. We both know what's going on, here."

"Do we?"

Hiwa watches as Blondie's fingers climb towards her waist like she might prop her hand on her hip or slip it into her back pocket.

"Ugh. You're one of _those_."

"_Forward. Keep forward. I'm sensing a clump, in the room on the right."_

"_Got it. Lead the way."_

"That's going to take some clarification."

"One of those assholes that insists on playing games. Acting all dumb."

_The sound of a door slamming against concrete._

"I'm not acting dumb," Hiwa says. "You're being vague."

_Screaming and shouting, groans, the heavy noise of flesh hitting flesh and the crunch of bones being ground to dust._

"Well. If this is too vague for you, then—"

_The stray curse word, here and there._

Two things happen at once.

In one fluid motion, Blondie reaches into her back pocket, palms a senbon, and cocks her arm to throw it right into Hiwa's throat.

And with a second head start, Hiwa slips her fingers into the rat seal and lashes out with her shadow to lock Blondie in place before the senbon can fly.

The Nara Shadow Imitation Technique: Hiwa's least favourite ace in the hole.

Years ago, when she was young and adamant to avoid going to her training and had all of that time to kill, she napped a lot. That's true. But she picked up another habit during that time alone, a point of interest, if you will, that she practiced when there was nobody to see her and snitch.

Hiwa decided that she was going to teach herself how to do the technique because her father told her not to even _think _of trying, and at that point, Hiwa decided she should do it anyway.

He never found out. So she never regretted it.

But her grasp on the technique is tenuous at best, and her unskilled use of it would make any full-blooded Nara shrink into the shade of their tree in horror. It's reliable enough but limited far beyond what it's supposed to be.

She doesn't think of it as the Shadow Imitation Technique, at the end of the day. It has such a narrow usage. She prefers to see it as a Shadow Control (Kind Of) Technique.

Hiwa takes a few seconds to gauge the level of drain she's experiencing from holding Blondie in place. It differs from person to person. And from what she seems to be taking to keep a grasp on Blondie, she's got ten minutes, at most, before the technique will drain her to the point of fatal chakra exhaustion. Seven minutes and less, and she'll live. But she shouldn't cut it closer than five minutes for the sake of comfort.

"You're a _Nara_?"

"Half."

_A piercing whirr._

The sound is so loud that the audio around it crinkles and Hiwa doesn't completely mask her wince at that.

"_That's the alarm,_" Kakashi says, grimly. "_Sooner than expected._"

"_Great. How much do we have left_?"

"_Sixty percent, at least._"

She remains seated. Blondie remains standing.

And neither of them will be moving anytime soon.

Hiwa can hold somebody in place, but that's about all she can do. She can't make somebody else move, or the jutsu breaks. She can't move _herself_, or the jutsu breaks. She can't even try and signal for Rei because as far as she's aware pulsing her chakra disrupts her control over the yin chakra in her shadow and, once again, _the jutsu breaks_.

The upside is that her chakra reserves are alright enough that she can hold the jutsu for an alright amount of time.

Blondie laughs. It's bitter and cold, and Blondie looks a bit surprised when it comes out. "Wow. Fuck me, I guess. That's it?"

"Now you've lost me."

"I'm _dead_," Blondie says. "Just like that. I don't have my mic on me, I don't know how to break this, and I can't currently defend myself." She sneers. "All I can do is stand here and bitch like a fucking defenceless baby."

The only reason she can do even that is that Hiwa's long learned that trying to control something so intricate is generally a waste of chakra. In a fight, unless others are coming, better to let her target move their head and guarantee the rest of their body stays than try and keep all of it frozen.

Because what Blondie says isn't accurate. Not with Hiwa, at least. That's just a consequence of her being self-taught—the Shadow Imitation Technique is unbreakable. Right now, though, if Blondie _did _try and fight Hiwa's control, she might not be able to break it, but she'd complicate things. The more Blondie fights, the more chakra Hiwa uses up to keep her in place. No fight, like this? It makes Hiwa's job easy.

And because she sees no harm in talking to somebody who can't take action, Hiwa says, "Yeah. You are."

Infiltrators are chess players, in that respect—they know better than anybody that once they're in checkmate, the show's over. Most carry poison, for in those situations, to take themselves out before any secrets can be spilled. She's confident Blondie carries some, not that she can reach it.

Hiwa never used to. But now, hers sits in a seam on the inside of her obi.

"_I think we're going to have to split up_," Genma says. "_They're starting to spread and raise defences."_

"Fuck off."

"_Fine. Take the right, I'll take the left. I'll route back to you when I finish."_

"_Alright._"

Hiwa's sure the radio is about to get a whole lot more chaotic if that's possible.

And she's only one minute in.

"So, what's your big plan?" Blondie asks. "Oh. You've got me. Now what, huh? Gonna torture me? Take me back to Konoha with you for interrogation?"

"We're going to wait."

"Until what? Your comrades finish up butchering _my _comrades?"

And as if to punctuate the question, Hiwa hears a scream that cuts off into eerie silence.

"Yeah."

Another bitter laugh. "Great. What a showing, for Konoha. Living up to that friendly reputation, of yours."

"We do what we can, and I can tell you do, too. Encroaching on our land and interfering with our financial and agricultural stability like this? That sounds like the typical brand of Kusa nastiness to me."

_Two fights at once._

_Metal hitting metal in a way that sounds like distorted echoes of the same fight. Voices overlap, jutsu being thrown around and calls being made_.

"At least we're honest. Kusa has never had any qualms about doing what needs to be done. You all insist on acting nice while you creep around in the shadows." She wrinkles her nose and curls her lips. "You assholes are worse than the rest of us if you ask me. Bunch of filthy cowards."

"_Fire Release: Flame Bullet!_"

Hiwa feels the ground beneath her shake. Blondie feels it, too, from the way her expression tightens.

"Won't be too much longer, I don't think," Hiwa says.

Anger burns bright and hot in Blondie's eyes, and it turns the otherwise soft brown of them into something as hard and unforgiving as the mountains. Killing intent rolls off of her for the first time, now, and it hits Hiwa like a tsunami, as if the floodgates holding it back were dropped and it was left to pour out of her with enough force to level a village.

Thankfully, Hiwa isn't cowed easily.

She instead levels her gaze with Blondie and asks, "Since neither of us is going anywhere, I have a question for you: what made you break from our trail?"

Blondie scoffs.

"I know it was at the festival," Hiwa says.

And to her surprise, Blondie's expression loosens. The killing intent fades into a buzz. She eyes Hiwa up with an odd mixture of haughtiness and cold amusement when she says, "You have your village's idiocy to thank for it."

"Was it idiocy if it got us here? You're not exactly coming out on top."

"_Status?"_

"_Getting there. Probably about forty percent done the right wing."_

"Considering it goes against the obvious, logical way to organize a mission, I think so."

"_Good. I'm seventy percent done with the left. Expect me there in no more than three minutes."_

Hiwa's confusion is genuine when she shakes her head. "What are you even talking about?"

"_Understood."_

"Where's that famed genius-level Nara intellect? Get left behind? Come on."

What does the festival have to do with _mission organization_? That sounds like it's referencing a foundational, ground-level decision. And for it to be a product of the 'village's idiocy' implies it's not just something Hiwa and Genma did. It was bigger than them. Or intended as a more non-personal dig?

The only thing Hiwa can think of that traces that far back about the festival is that the two of them were even there in the first place.

Hiwa thinks, at this point, about what _specifically _Blondie even saw. It was her and Genma right after he kept her from face-planting, and the two of them were still—

_Oh_.

Hiwa's face heats up.

Because for Hiwa, there was nothing fake about her reaction to that, and in retrospect, she doesn't think Genma was playing it up for the cover, either. Blondie witnessed what was a very real moment of physical intimacy between them.

Something that Hiwa herself has acknowledged was a distraction and unideal. Which is exactly why Konoha—while lacking formal rules against it—tends to avoid sending two people who are involved like that out on missions together.

She sees no reason for Kusa to be any different.

Blondie cackles, and the sound rattles around in the air like a stone being shaken inside a tin can. "Look at that. Maybe she's not so stupid, after all! Get it?"

"Think so."

"Kusa would never dare send two people so compromised out on a mission."

"We weren't when the mission started," Hiwa says.

_A grunt of pain._

Genma.

Hiwa fights to hide the panic from leaking into her posture or her expression.

"Is that supposed to make it better?" Blondie spits. "Now you're making me look bad, _sweetie_. That I couldn't catch two people as incompetent as you."

"_Status report_," is the sharp call from Kakashi.

_Another grunt and a snap. "Fine. Knife to the side. Nothing vital, just hurts like a bitch._"

"You did that all yourself," Hiwa says. Her voice sounds distant. "Didn't need my help."

Stabbed.

But he's still moving, talking, and fighting, and she trusts him to know what is and isn't considered dangerous. She forces herself to shove it out of her mind.

Three minutes in. She has four more left.

They're holding on—she'll hold on, too.

Without Hiwa taking the initiative to keep the conversation flowing, Blondie seems content to keep quiet, after that. There's nothing but the rustle of the breeze through the foliage, the water happily gurgling in the pond, and the occasional random civilian walking past.

Four minutes.

"_Solo objective complete. Routing over to your location."_

"_Got it_," Genma grunts, his voice thin.

When another young man—a boy, more accurately—walks past, not acknowledging either of their presence with his wrapped up he is in the book he's reading as he goes, Hiwa casts a curious look at Blondie.

"Not going to try and ask for help?"

Blondie looks at her like she's completely brainless. It reminds her of Kakashi, in a way—the way it beautifully blends utter disgust with surprise and bewilderment. "Yeah. Right. Like some little civilian brat is going to be able to do anything."

It's Hiwa's turn to give Blondie a look of disbelief. "Kick up a fuss? Cause a commotion? Try and distract us?" She only says it because, at this point, there's no hope for Blondie to make it out of this. No amount of help could derail their mission.

"And risk getting a bunch of innocents killed in the process?" Blondie asks. "Obviously I'm not going to do that, you dipshit. How do I know you won't just take out anybody who makes this too hard for you?"

"Because we wouldn't kill innocent Fire Country civilians?"

"You don't know your village very well, do you? How sad for you."

"We _wouldn't_—"

_Shouting, grunting, the sound of somebody hitting the ground and—_

"Are they still considered innocents, to you, if they're impeding the mission?"

Hiwa's jaw tightens. "_Yes_."

_The chirp of birds_.

What is that?

_Louder chirping, joined by crackling, and it's getting louder._

"Doubt I can say the same for your comrades, though."

_A thud. A sigh of relief._

"_Nice save_," Genma says. _"Thanks_."

"Neither of them would kill anybody here who isn't a Kusa ninja or intimately involved with helping operations."

Blondie's smile is wicked and sharp, and Hiwa's gut twists. "The fact that I doubt you believe that is why I'm still standing here quietly like a good little hostage."

Hiwa thinks back on her conversation with Genma.

She'd like to think that he wouldn't. She can be sure that he would hesitate. And that he wouldn't _want _to do it.

Kakashi isn't somebody she can even begin to try and predict, for better or for worse.

"Don't like hearing it?" Blondie asks. "Don't like remembering that you're as awful as the rest of us?"

"I never forgot."

Because how could she?

Morality is a funny thing, Hiwa has found. She carried over dredges of her own from her last life into this one. That ability to view life as something that shouldn't be taken easily. The inherent aversion to cold-blooded murder and meaningless violence that is so quickly bred out of prospective ninja in the Academy. In her old life, she was considered grey, even, for the work she did for the American government.

She's about as white as snow in this world, now. That's always been clear to her from the moment her dad entered her into the Academy and she was handed a weapon. The pommel of the kunai fit perfectly in her palm, and that was the click moment, for her, where she realized this was a world where rather than wait until the hand was big enough to grasp the handle, the handle was shrunk to fit the child.

Hiwa adapted.

She stepped a bit further into the grey zone, gave up some of her inhibitions and compromised, and realized that one day, the village would look at her boundaries and tell her to leap over them.

It happened when she was eleven, out on the frontlines, and she killed a Kusa ninja who was the same age as her.

She's done awful things, and she can never forget that most of the people she's loved and cherished in this world have done things that would make her stomach turn, too.

She has never and will never forget the day she was seven and her father came home from a mission with a smile on his face and a little gold souvenir in hand for her. He picked her up, spun her around, and laughed, saying he was sorry he was gone for so long. Two days later, she overheard him discussing with his teammates the aftermath of their mission, wherein they turned a Kusa mining village to dust to try and strangle Kusa's weapon production. Each and every civilian died.

She loves her father and she cherishes his memory more than any material object she will ever own, even as she remembers having to run to the bathroom and vomiting for a solid five minutes after hearing that, only to wave her father off and claim she had a stomach ache. He didn't believe her, and she never overheard him talking about his mission work with teammates again.

It's why she won't hold it against Genma or Kakashi, that they can't see from her perspective. It's why she fights for her village, with the heinous things it has done, continues to do, and will inevitably do in the future.

She can't forget the innocent lives taken every day. She won't forget the faces of the people _she _has killed who didn't deserve it.

But good people can do bad things.

Genma and Kakashi both are good people. Her father was a good man.

Much as she'd like to think they won't commit atrocities, she knows that they will. And in this world, that doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a ninja.

"I _can't _forget."

"Yeah? You think so? We'll see."

Five minutes.

She's starting to flag. She can feel that burn in her navel like she's just run a marathon even though her breath is even and her heart rate is steady. A sign that she's burned a giant chunk of chakra at once, beyond what her body is designed to do.

"_Ninety percent done. Estimated one minute to completion."_

Her estimation was close—she thinks she can last another few minutes. Two and a half, maybe. And at this point, she knows that if she dares to let go early, she's dead. There's no winning a fight against Blondie.

Hiwa hedged her bet. She'll see it through.

She breathes out, listening.

_Clink. Clink. Cli—_

"_Got him_," Genma says. _"How many more?_"

"_I can sense another four more. Two are in the room ahead, one is at the end of the hallway, heading towards us, and the last is down the hallway, to the right, and inside the mapping room."_

"_Easy."_

"_I'll take the two, you slip ahead and get the oncoming one."_

"_On it."_

Worst case scenario, Hiwa risks breaking her jutsu to try and radio for backup. Though it sounds like they're close enough to being done that she'll squeak by.

"What's your name?" Hiwa asks.

"Fuck off."

Thirty seconds tick by and Hiwa doesn't expect anything else, as the sounds of Genma and Kakashi cleaning up the stragglers rage on in her ear.

"Mitsuki," Blondie murmurs. "Name's Hagare Mitsuki."

Hiwa nods. "I'm sorry, Mitsuki."

"Yeah? Good for you. I'm sure that 'sorry' will do me a whole lot of good in a few minutes when I'm dead, huh?"

"Probably not."

And maybe she's saying it for herself. Hiwa doesn't know, and she doesn't have the energy to think about it too much because her time left to hold this can be counted in seconds not minutes and she's _really _feeling the drain. Her head's a bit foggy and if she stood up, she thinks the world would swim, as if she'd spent the last six and change minutes upside down.

"_That's the last of it."_

"_Good_," Kakashi says.

"_Hiwa? You see anything?"_

She thanks her stars that Genma is doing the most Genma-like thing, in this situation, and checking in with her the second he's done.

"_Hiwa?"_ he asks again, an edge to his voice.

"_Go,_" Kakashi says. "_I'll finish cleaning up."_

"_Roger."_

She watches the section of grass from the corner of her eye.

And she waits.

Her gaze focused where it is, she doesn't see what ends up happening—all she knows is that one second, she's blinking away stars, cashed in on her bet and stuck seeing if she picked the right number, and the next her world is black.

.

.

The second the blonde woman goes down, Hiwa crumples forward like a doll whose strings have been cut and Genma's heart stops cold.

He's never moved so fast in his life.

The blonde woman's body gets kicked aside—dead by a kunai to the throat, thrown with enough force to borderline behead her—and Genma gathers Hiwa up in his arms. The wound in his side twinges in protest, but Genma ignores it as his hand flies to her throat.

A steady heartbeat pulses under his fingers.

He closes his eyes and bows his head, all the air leaving his lungs.

_She looked like she was dead._

And that? That's got a one-way ticket to his nightmares.

With his thumb, Genma lifts her eyelid. Her eyes are rolled back into her head—she's out cold. No physical injuries. His mouth twists down into a frown. Chakra exhaustion is the only thing he can think of. Which makes sense with the jutsu she was using.

How close was she to the edge, though, to pass out the second the jutsu broke? What would have happened if he was even half a minute later? He let her fall. She trusted him to catch her, bet her life on it, and here she is on the ground anyways.

One more person he failed.

One more person he _cared about _that would be dead because he wasn't enough.

"How is she?"

"Alive," Genma says. "Chakra exhaustion, I think."

Kakashi hums. "She used it?"

There's only one thing 'it' could be.

"You _knew _she could use it?"

"It's come up before." He nods at her. "And I can tell you right now, we might as well just start the trip back to the village. She's going to be out for a few days, given she hasn't slept much as well."

Genma stares down at Hiwa's face. Save for the few flecks of blood splattered on her cheek from the blonde woman, she looks like she could be asleep in bed, not having just taken herself out via chakra exhaustion.

He tries to wipe the blood away with his sleeve. The blood smears, and when Genma checks his sleeve, he realizes there was already blood on there from earlier.

Kakashi crouches down and cleans the mess off with a little grey handkerchief produced from Kami knows where. "She knew what she was doing," he says. "She's a lot of things, but Hiwa's not reckless. She knew it was going to work out."

"She could have _died_."

"So could we."

"It's—"

"Exactly the same," Kakashi says coldly. His eye shoots down to Genma's side, where blood is sluggishly leaking from the wound. "And regardless, entirely irrelevant, because as I said, she wouldn't have let it get to that point."

Genma grits his teeth and one of his hands press down against it. "You don't know that."

"Maybe not. But you should."

Genma lays Hiwa down and gets up. He steps back.

Kakashi eyes him. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Kakashi."

And at that, Kakashi only shrugs. He slides an arm under Hiwa's shoulders and one under her knees and lifts her off the ground. "Come on. Let's get our things and move. With the alarm having gone off, Kusa got word that we've cleaned the place out. We can't be here when they are."

"Rei—"

"We'll go find her after we've gotten our stuff out of our rooms and headed out. I already sent one of my pack to track her down and get her up to speed on what's happened."

Genma clenches his jaw. Hiwa's head lolls against Kakashi's shoulder, her entire body limp and her face pale, and he looks away. "Alright."

"Then get a move on."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_It's hard watching people change, but it's_

_even harder remembering how they used to be._

* * *

It takes Hiwa three separate tries to wake up.

The first, she's up long enough to open her eyes, glance around and catch sight of Rei curled into a ball on the floor a few feet away, and go right back to sleep.

The second time, she thinks she gets up and wanders into a kitchen. Which kitchen? She has no idea because the entire place is unfamiliar to her. But she gropes through the cabinets until she finds a glass. She fills it with water, chugs it down, and then refills it and downs it again. Then she stumbles back to the bed and conks out.

It's on the third attempt that when she sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes, it's with the usual sleep-induced bleariness. Her bones don't feel like they're full of lead, anymore, and that alcove inside her chest doesn't feel scorched and raw.

She can guess immediately what happened: Genma and Kakashi brought her home while she was sleeping off her chakra exhaustion. Which she's grateful for. Disorienting, maybe, but it saves her a day's worth of travel, and she sees no reason to complain about that.

Hiwa forces herself to throw her legs over the bed. The wooden floors are cold against the soles of her feet—iced by air conditioning, by the feel of it.

The second her feet hit the ground, Rei's head pops up. She hops to her feet and wanders over to Hiwa, her tail wagging back and forth so fast that her butt wiggles along with it.

"Hey," Hiwa murmurs.

Rei sets her head in Hiwa's lap and nudges Hiwa in the stomach.

Hiwa drops a hand on her head. "Good to see you, too. Wanna help me up?"

So, using Rei for support, Hiwa hobbles through the house on unsteady legs, and finally realizes where the hell she is.

She's in her apartment.

The place looks different with the furniture in it, and a sense of satisfaction warms her when she sees that whoever Jiraiya tasked with filling her apartment did a pretty good job, all things considered.

Her first stop is the bathroom, to both pee a river and get these dumb prosthetics off her face. It takes her sleep-clumsy hands a few minutes longer than it should to undo the seal, scrawling the deactivation seal with the ink and brush she keeps in her bathroom for removing these types of things for this exact reason, but she gets there eventually. Longer than she'll ever admit, but she gets there, and that's what matters.

Next stop is the main part of the apartment.

As she crosses into the living room, a plush dark grey couch, a matching grey armchair, and a glass table perched on top of a circular black rug is waiting for her. Her books are all set up inside of a massive black bookshelf that takes up most of the far wall—out of order, but that's to be expected—with yawning aralia, in the perfect spot to catch light from the window and glass slider that lead to her porch. The middle shelf has her photographs displayed on it, too, with a little succulent to keep them company.

"Whoever Jiraiya's agent is, she did a good job," Hiwa says. "Wonder if the couch or bookshelf are gonna collapse, though."

Rei bounds over to the couch and launches herself onto it. The couch flies back a few inches from the force of it, but doesn't buckle under Rei's weight.

"Guess not."

She notices a note sitting on the table.

_Enjoy your new apartment. Tell Jiraiya to go suck ass._

It's signed: 'From a Fellow Kunoichi Stuck Dealing With Jiraiya'.

Hiwa scoffs and sets it on the bookshelf.

She makes her way into the kitchen and notices that to her neverending fortune, on her counter is a coffee maker. Then she digs through the cabinets and realizes there's no coffee to brew.

Hoping that the kunoichi bought her some basic groceries, Hiwa pulls the fridge open. She finds it empty save for a bag of takeout. The food inside isn't anything special—four rice balls and some tempura. But it's her saving grace as, second to having a cup of coffee, getting some food into her stomach is her top priority.

There's no note on the bag itself and given that it _smells _fresh Hiwa can tell whoever put it in there did it within the last few hours or so, she doubts it was the kunoichi. Genma, probably. She smiles to herself as she dumps it onto a plate and pops it into the microwave—thankfully, while the apartment didn't come fully furnished, a lot of the basic appliances were left behind, including a microwave and a radio.

Hiwa pulls out her steaming plate of food and takes it into the living room rather than the cute little circular dining table sitting inside the kitchen.

She gets herself a book, flicks on the radio, and grabs a blanket. Rei trails behind her and settles around her feet. She's too big to actually fit on the couch, but she sets her head down beside Hiwa, her nose pushed into Hiwa's thigh.

"Feeling clingy, huh?" Hiwa asks. She runs her hands down Rei's snout. "Yeah. Me too."

She'll worry about everything else later. For right now, she's going to sit on her couch, eat some food, enjoy the presence of her partner, listen to some music—maybe a show, if she's feeling really adventurous—and read a good book.

.

.

Hiwa strolls through the village with Rei at her side, her hands shoved in her pants pockets.

She's a bit stiff and really, she would rather be at home still, but her stomach wouldn't shut up and after a couple hours of it, she dragged herself up and wandered out the door. She's not planning to do a full grocery shop—she's just on the hunt for some kind of takeout.

Fortunately, her new apartment is pretty well in the heart of the village and she doubts she'll have to go far to find something worthwhile.

The sky's dim as she makes her way through the crowds, on its way to dark as the sun crawls beneath the horizon. She can smell the street food and restaurants, a combination of salty deep-fried things, sweet treats, and fish.

And that has Hiwa's attention for a while. So much so that when she walks past a BBQ stand where Genma and Raidou are seated, she almost doesn't notice them. She takes a step past the stand, stops, and then looks over her shoulder at them.

Raidou spots her and waves.

Hiwa turns on her heel and makes her way over to the stand. She rests her elbow on the counter. "Hey," she says, grinning. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Good to see you up," Raidou says. "Heard you were out for a while."

"Yeah. Not really sure how long."

And Genma says, "Three days."

Hiwa's back straightens and Raidou casts him a confused look.

That she was out cold for three days is noteworthy, but what gets her attention more is the tone that Genma says it in. It's not cold. It's not bitter. She can't put her finger on _what _it is in his voice that gets her. The detached way it's said, maybe.

It has Hiwa feeling like she's on the defensive and she can't for the life of her understand that because there's no fight in front of them.

What makes her feel better is that Raidou picked up on it too, so she's at least not imagining things.

"That so?" Hiwa asks.

"Yep." He smiles at her and a shiver runs down her spine. It's the same kind of smile she remembers him giving Saki. "How you feeling?"

"Fine," she says. "Yeah." She clears her throat. "You?"

He pats his side. "Fine enough."

"Thanks for the takeout, by the way."

And the confused look on his face makes the situation all the more disorienting.

"That… wasn't you?"

"No," Genma says. "Not me."

Hiwa pushes herself up off of the stand and rocks back on her heels.

Raidou narrows his eyes on Genma. "Want to join us, Hiwa? We only got our food a couple minutes ago. Still time for you to order and stuff."

She sticks her hands back in her pockets. Her thumb runs over the outside of her pack, and she pulls it out and tips one into her palm. "Nah," she murmurs. She slides the cigarette into the corner of her mouth.

The cigarette butt flares bright orange after she lights it and takes the first drag.

She smiles at them both. "But thanks for the offer, Raidou."

A ghost of a wince runs through Genma's features and Hiwa feels guilt stab at her.

He looks away, another knife, and Hiwa forces herself to ignore both that and the sinking feeling in her gut this whole conversation is giving her.

Maybe he's just having a bad day?

But that doesn't feel like what's going on here. A bad day is being a bit snappy or quieter than usual. This feels like she's talking to a stranger with Genma's face and voice.

Rei rubs at her thigh and Hiwa curls her hand into the fur along her neck. The warmth comforts her, as does the steady weight at her side. Hiwa pulls the cigarette out of her mouth and blows the smoke away from them.

"I"ve got to grab some things," she says. "Empty kitchen, you know."

"Yeah," Raidou says. "New apartment, right?"

"Few blocks down from here."

"Building Seventy-nine?"

"That's the one," Hiwa says.

He nods.

Genma smiles that smile at her again and Hiwa's flight instincts flare up. "You like how it looks?"

"Yeah, it's nice," she says. She takes a step back. "Gonna head off. Have a good dinner, guys."

She walks off without listening to see if either of them reply.

.

.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Raidou asks.

Genma rolls his eyes. "Rai—"

"No, Genma. What _was _that?"

"It's complicated."

"Really? You're going to sit here and tell me that the two of you were—were cuddling and making out _beyond _just maintaining your cover, and that's what you do once you're back? Treat her like a stranger?"

"How did…" Genma sighs. "Kakashi."

"Damn right he spilled."

"Fuck, Rai, just… just butt out, alright?"

"So you can go and ruin another relationship?"

Genma bites down hard on his senbon. "_Enough_."

Raidou stares at Genma.

Something passes between them, like waves between two walkie-talkies, and where the flow is usually smooth Genma feels like there's something causing a disruption.

Raidou raises a hand and says, "Actually, I'll take this to go, please."

Genma closes his eyes. "Sorry, alright? But I just—"

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," he says. "And I think you need some time alone to think about that. Come find me when you're ready to pull your head out of your ass."

He sits back in his seat and watches as Raidou's food is tossed into a styrofoam container and handed back to him.

Raidou hops off his stool. He shakes his head. "Really think about this," he says. "I don't want to watch you fuck this up. I know what you're trying to do, alright? But it's not going to work, not how you want it to. And I don't want to watch you hurt yourself like that."

"I know," Genma murmurs.

But he won't make any promises to Raidou—no need to lay out more promises that he's bound to break. No need to let somebody else he cares about fall.

"Good."

.

.

She takes the first half-decent thing she passes. It ends up being oden. Smells decent, looks decent, and without much care Hiwa orders something and tosses her money onto the counter.

Bounty in hand, she trudges home, making sure to take a different route because she doesn't want to see Genma right now.

That entire encounter has her confused and hurt in equal measure.

Because what even _was _that?

"_I'm not going anywhere_," he'd promised her.

And now he's gone and stepped back, out of arms reach from her, so far that he didn't even say 'hi'.

Honestly? Surprise is right up there in the maelstrom churning around her head, right now. Because she hadn't realized she'd pegged him so wrong until now. She doesn't think she was wrong in her initial assessment that Genma was the type to hold people close after having lost so many already. But she's realizing that maybe they're more alike than she thought.

As close as he seems to hold onto some people, like Raidou—like _her_, she'd started to think—he seems inclined to lock them out at the same time. He holds them close, wrapped up in a blanket to help them weather the blizzard, but she thinks now that all the blanket does is disguise the fact that his skin is as icy as the storm.

Hiwa chews on the inside of her cheek.

Much as she didn't want to, Hiwa sent Rei off to hunt because she knows that having hung around the house together the whole day, she's bound to be as hungry as Hiwa. But she almost wishes she didn't because she's not sure she wants to be in an empty house, right now.

It hurts.

The worst part is that she can't even bring herself to be mad at him after what he's done for her. She should be; she has every right to be, regardless of his previous kindness, of what she knows he's been through. You can't make a promise like that and then walk it back. Past experiences don't excuse current behaviours.

But when she tries to drum up the anger, all she feels is a dull thrum of sadness.

She shakes her head.

He's had days to think the mission over. Maybe he decided that it was just the nature of the mission that got him interested, that he was too invested in playing the part to keep his feelings straight. It's not unusual.

And for some reason, that hurts more than if he just changed his mind, because it meant that Hiwa's the idiot in this situation who caught feelings for real.

She wants to feel his arms around her again. She wants his hand on her cheek, his lips on the top of her head, his arm around her waist. She wants _him_. But apparently, he doesn't want her.

Hiwa presses the palms of her hands into her eyes and sighs, the takeout bag hanging off her elbow.

Well, if he wants space, he can have it. She won't chase him.

The logical part of her thinks that they need to go and hash this out and she can acknowledge that that's the _best_, most _mature _way to deal with this. But Hiwa doesn't feel mature right now. She feels like a teenage girl who just got rejected and rationality can go eat shit, for all she cares. After spending an entire mission being reasonable, she feels like she's earned a bout of pettiness.

So she won't go after him, she won't hunt him down and try to talk to him. If she sees him, she'll say hi. She'll chat.

She won't chase somebody who isn't interested in being chased.

She deserves better than that.

* * *

The mission report takes her a solid three days to write.

It's not long—she skimmed details, knowing full well that Jiraiya was going to be reading it, and kept it short-worded. She just couldn't be bothered to do it any quicker. Kakashi definitely hasn't turned his in yet, but she's sure Genma has. Hers won't say much different than his.

Not that that keeps the chunin from knocking on her door after a couple of days, disgruntled as they always are with having to make a house call. As it turns out, Rei works wonders at scaring off desk-chunin. Who would have thought?

But between the Genma Incident and the point at which she goes to hand in her mission report, she only leaves the house once to go and get groceries. The whole other chunk of time is spent sitting on her couch, reading and jotting down a sentence here and there between chapters. She knows she needs to go and train at _some _point, but that point is not today.

And every day, she glances at her calendar. She watches the days tick down, closer and closer to the Lunar Festival, closer and closer to the 10th of October.

Like with everything else currently going wrong right now, she shoves it all back out of her mind rather than let it take up her brain space.

Today, she's in the mission building, waiting in line with everybody else to hand off her scroll and then put that out of her mind, too. If anything becomes of the mission in regards to Konoha and Kusa relations, she'll hear about it from Jiraiya, in that she trusts. Not because she thinks he'll share that kind of information willy nilly, but because she's sure that she's the first on his list to send back into Grass Country to do more infiltration work. Better to pick the person that's up to date than further spread the information.

Aside from a couple of chunin and a lone jonin right up at the front, mid-argument with the desk chunin over something, most of the people ahead of her are jonin with their genin teams. Unfortunate for her as that doesn't make for a quiet, peaceful wait.

"But _I _was supposed to be the one to help her!" one of the genin cries. He stomps his foot. "Right?"

"You only wanted to help her because you thought she was cute," his kunoichi teammate says with a sneer.

"No! That's not true!"

The third genin says, "Yeah… it is."

When all of them turn to their jonin, all they get from the woman is a bored shrug.

"This sucked," says a genin from another team. He pulls his shirt away from him and Hiwa hears the way water and mud splatter onto the ground as a result. "Who hires genin to help _farm_?"

"Who is enough of an idiot to _fall into the rice paddy_?" his teammate counters. "You're a ninja! You're supposed to be, like, able to balance better, and stuff!"

The other teammate looks forlornly down at her shoes, lifting it up and watching as it leaves an imprint on the floor. "To be fair, the ground was really slippery."

"Still!"

"But if you all had applied yourselves and learned water walking when I tried to teach you, you would have been able to walk on top of the paddies," their jonin says.

"_What_?" the first boy cries.

Hiwa scoffs to herself and rolls her eyes.

She, Shinji, and Hiro were never quite like this. Neither she nor Hiro were energetic enough to get into bouts like this, more attuned to the quiet, petty sort of method to vent their frustration, and Shinji didn't have the capacity for it. Too nice.

She smiles to herself, small and bitter, and taps her mission report against her leg.

"Well, well, look who it is," a familiar voice drawls from behind her. "Shiranui Hiwa, finally turning in her mission report."

Hiwa bites back a sigh.

_Oh, great_.

"Had to do it eventually," she says.

She turns to face Nara Shikaku as he meanders towards her, shoulders slouched and hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Better late than never."

"Bet Kakashi hasn't turned his in, yet."

"You would be correct," Shikaku says. "Though, Genma has."

"I figured."

He stares at her as if waiting for something.

She cocks her head, unsure.

What could he want from her, now? What was there for him to notice in Genma's report?

It takes a few seconds of befuddled silence, and then it hits her like a semi-truck bowling over a traffic cone: Genma saw her use the shadow technique.

She never warned him to keep it quiet. It slipped her mind—not that it would have done her much good, considering Genma probably handed his report in before she woke up.

"Anything interesting?" Hiwa asks, voice monotone.

"Few things," he says. He rolls one of his shoulders in an imitation of a shrug. "Definitely curious to read yours."

If that's what he's looking for in hers he won't find it. She referenced it as her having 'detained the enemy' with no specification as to _how _she detained Mitsuki.

It shouldn't matter. This whole marriage situation should be settled.

But if you give the Nara an inch, they'll take _thirty _miles, a fact that she knows intimately.

"Yeah? Well, hope it doesn't disappoint."

Shikaku slants his gaze at her and nods. "I'm sure it won't."

He heads off past her, down the hall towards the jonin lounge, his usual haunt, and Hiwa pinches the bridge of her nose.

The Nara Shadow technique isn't a blood limit. It doesn't fall under that jurisdiction, not as far as she knows, and thus isn't protected by the same laws that protect the Sharingan, the Byuakugan, the Aburame techniques, all of that. It's all in the chakra—anybody born with yin chakra that's compatible can learn it. The Nara just have a natural affinity for it.

That's why it's kept under lock and key, and she had to learn it in secret, based on her own observations and extrapolations. The Nara don't _want _it getting around. They know it's only particular to them because they hoard the knowledge of how to learn it. If Hiwa had had access to their scrolls, she's sure she could use the technique with as much skill and finesse as any full-blooded Nara.

And if Shikaku knows that she can use it now? All of a sudden, beyond being a possible womb, she now has something of theirs that they don't want being spread around.

"Next," the desk chunin calls.

Hiwa looks, expecting to see the rest of the line, and realizes that it's now her turn.

She goes up and hands off her scroll.

Somehow, things may have just gotten more complicated.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_Love may have the longest arms, but it_

_can still fall short of an embrace._

* * *

Hiwa freezes midway through braiding one chunk of her hair, having just stepped into the main part of her apartment. She blinks. Sleep lingers in her mind, a fuzzy filter over her thoughts and vision, but she doesn't think she's imagining this now.

"What are you doing in my house?" she blurts out, the words slurred a bit around the edges.

From his place on her couch, reading _her _book, Kakashi shrugs.

Rei breaks from Hiwa's side and goes over to nuzzle his hand, and Hiwa makes a disgusted noise. "You _traitor._"

Kakashi pats her and tosses her a treat.

Not awake enough for this mess, Hiwa keeps on towards her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

She doesn't reenter the living room until she has a cup cradled between her hands, the steam rising up and tickling her chin. The smell is everything she needs—warm, rich, and with a hint of spice from the cinnamon. Alone, it's enough to put a spring in her step.

Until she sees Kakashi sitting on her couch like it's his house, not hers, and she sighs.

"Kakashi," she says. "Why are you in my house?"

He waves the book around. "You seemed to have decent book tastes, aversion to smut aside, and I wanted something to read."

She doesn't mind that in concept. She's proud of her book collection—she's got stuff from all around the Elemental Nations, stuff that Kakashi would never be able to find in the Konoha book shops or its library.

In practice?

It brings her to where she is, with an asshole on her couch. Kakashi's like a human-sized cat—waltzes into a space and treats it like it's his without any regard for whoever _actually _owns the space.

"And you couldn't, oh. I don't know. Wait until I was awake and then ask first?"

"First of all, you offered already, remember? I'm just taking you up on the open invitation," Kakashi says. "Secondly…" He gestures at the clock on the table beside the couch.

Three in the afternoon.

"... fair."

She wanders over and settles herself cross-legged on the table. She tilts her head, reading the title on the cover, and her eyebrows go up. "_Of Makeouts and Kunai_," she reads. "You really went and found the only mildly smutty book on my shelf."

"It sounded the most interesting."

"I'm sure," she says.

She takes a sip of her coffee. It's still hot and she scalds her tongue some, but it's worth it for the shot of warmth that runs through her body as it goes down.

"Thanks for the takeout a few days ago, by the way."

Kakashi stiffens. His eye flicks up to her, then back down to his book.

He pulls a face that Hiwa can only describe as 'ugh, feelings' and says, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't see who else it could have been, but you," she says. "It wasn't Genma, and it was still fresh. So it was left somewhat soon before I woke up. Meaning whoever left it had been keeping tabs on me, to know when I'd be up for real."

"Mah, you're a lovely young woman. I'm sure you have plenty of friends who could've left it in there for you."

Hiwa laughs. "I don't have friends, Kakashi."

Kakashi goes still as a statue.

But he relaxes again. "Well, it wasn't me. But Pakkun. You see, he has a soft spot for Rei. Might have done something to try and impress her human, get on her good side."

"Kakashi—"

"And, really," he continues, "do you always eat strange food you find in your fridge? That's not healthy. Poisonings happen, you know."

_Holy shit_, Hiwa thinks. _He's a nervous rambler._

"_Kakashi_."

And he stares at her. Hiwa opens her mouth to say something else, but she blinks and all that's left on her couch is smoke and a small pile of leaves.

Rei rears back in surprise and Hiwa waves her hand to clear the smoke.

"He took my book," she mumbles to herself. "Asshole."

But her day must go on, so Hiwa drags herself off the table and back into her kitchen for some breakfast.

* * *

"Hiwa!"

Hiwa stops, shopping bags filled with a small fortune in newly bought clothes—thank you, what's left of her casino money—hanging off her arms, and turns. "Taru?"

She spots Taru weaving through the crowd towards her, Hachi hot on his heels.

"What… the _hell… _Hiwa…" He huffs out his breaths in harsh bursts, his hands braced on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. The chain around his neck falls loose from his shirt and the two rings hanging off of it, a rusted, worn gold band and a more polished silver one, glisten in the sunlight. "I can't… believe you…"

"What?"

He glares at her. "You didn't tell me… you were… _married_."

She sighs. "Maybe we should go grab lunch. I don't think this is a 'standing in the middle of the street' conversation."

.

.

Taru lets out a low whistle. He leans back in the chair at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant they found, his plate empty in front of him. "They told us you got exiled. Tsume refused to say why. But she showed us proof that you signed the forms, so…"

"It was kind of a mess," Hiwa admits. She brushes some spilled rice—that definitely didn't come from _her_ bowl, never, not on her life—off the table, chewing on her own pork fried rice. She catches sight of Hachi darting forward to lick up the crumbs and smothers a smile. "I felt like I didn't have any other options."

"Well… I see why you got in trouble, at least."

"Yeah. I can't really blame them."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had literally only gotten married the day you came—"

"But you had days afterwards, before they booted you out," he says. "And I heard through the grapevine that you were out on a mission. But you've been back how long, now?"

She cringes.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"No reason," she insists. "Seriously. I just…"

"Didn't think to."

"I mean. Yeah?"

He rolls his eyes. "Kami."

"I'm sorry!"

"Seriously, kid. I'm an old man. My heart can't take this." He takes a drink from his water and shakes his head. "Shiranui Hiwa. Sounds weird, to me."

And hearing it said out loud has Hiwa wincing.

Taru narrows his eyes. "What was that?"

She scratches her arm, wishing that she'd thought to bring her cigarettes. But she's been smoking a lot over the last month. She ought to go a few weeks without, at this point.

"Things are just complicated right now," she says.

"Oh boy. That's that _tone _you got after you and that Yoshio boy—"

"Yoshiro."

"_Whatever_. You and that boy broke up."

Her face flames red. "That didn't even count," she says. "We were like, eleven, and it was _one _date."

One date that she agreed to so she could mess it up and make him change his mind about dating her because she felt all kinds of weird dating somebody that young. And it worked. That 'tone' as Taru put it wasn't because she was sad about things not 'working out' between the two of them—that was intentional.

What had gotten her was that while he dragged her around the village by the hand, planting a kiss on her cheek here and there, the first memories of her marriage started to solidify in her mind like how an old photograph comes into focus once the dust has been blown off of it. It was the first time she got caught in that melancholic nostalgia, a time before the memories fully blossomed into the more solid recollections she has now.

It left her confused more than anything, at the time. She'd gotten other memories back at this point—memories of her parents, of her work, of her schooling—but it was the first time she'd ever remembered _him_, and it came so much later than everything else.

She remembers not knowing how to cope with the ache in her chest after that long.

And she hadn't thought of it before, but that ache is similar to the one she has now, whenever Genma pops into her thoughts.

She supposes she doesn't know how to do it now, either. How to soothe that ache, that feeling like something's being pulled from her grasp before she got the chance to properly explore it.

"C'mon," he says, in that same soft tone he'd used the night he'd dragged her to her meeting with Tsume. The one that reminds her that this man had been a friend of her father's, and had watched her grow up. "What's going on?"

"Things happened on the mission," she says. "Things that gave me hope that something would happen when I came back to the village. With the guy I married, I mean. We were sent out on the mission together."

"And you two weren't, uh—romantic, let's say—before you left on the mission."

"No," Hiwa says. "We barely knew each other."

"But it started to happen _while _you were on the mission."

"Yep."

"And?"

Hiwa sighs and sets her chopsticks down. "It was different when I talked to him again after we got back. Like he'd put a wall back up."

"Have you _talked to him _about this?"

"We haven't actually spoken since then."

"Kid," he says. "You're killing me, here."

"I know, alright?" she whines. "It's a mess and I'm not making it any better."

"So why haven't you?"

"Maybe if I ignore it long enough, the feelings will just go away? I'm pretty sure that's what happened with him—"

"You don't know that."

"You didn't _see _it, Taru."

"But I know you. And I know that you forget to shut that stupid brain of yours off, sometimes, and listen to what your heart is telling you."

"That was… really corny."

"Cut it out! I'm trying to give you sage advice here."

And she gives him a weak smile. "Thanks, Taru. Seriously. I know you're right, okay? I think I just need to sort some things out, first. With myself. Before I go and talk to him."

"I'm gonna follow up with you," he warns. "Isn't that right, Hachi?"

The beagle bays, loud and sharp.

"Alright," she says, her smile a bit stronger. "I think I can deal with that."

.

.

"It was good talking to you," Hiwa says, getting up from her seat. She lines her bags back over along her arms. "Tell Tsu that I'll try and set up something to see her soon, okay?"

"You could tell her yourself, in a couple weeks."

She stiffens. "Taru…"

"I know, alright? I know. But if I have to, I'll get into a fist-fight with Tsume just so you'll be allowed to attend the ceremony on the 10th."

"I can't make waves like that right now."

"Your father would still want you there," he murmurs. "We both know he would."

And the bitter smile on her lips burns like she'd tried to kiss an open flame. But she knows Taru means well—he always does. There's no anger behind the smile, just a sad frustration at the situation. "Dad would also want me to still be an Inuzuka," she says, her voice quiet as well. "And we've seen how that one went."

She looks down at her foot and the scar on it, only partially visible through the cutout in her sandals.

He also wouldn't want her to be as much of a coward as she is now, either. But she can't bring herself to say that one out loud.

Taru winces. "Sorry, kid."

"Don't be—you haven't done anything wrong. Not your fault that the situation sucks as much as it does."

"Yeah, well…" He sighs. "I'll come find you on the 10th, okay? Take a trip to the stone with you. I've been meaning to visit Kimi the last few weeks, anyway."

The smile on her face lightens some. "Yeah. That'd be nice, I think."

"Good."

.

.

When Hiwa sees the slider on the porch of her apartment is open a crack from where she stands in the courtyard, she knows Kakashi's broken in again.

She squints.

In light of that, she uses her tree-walking skills for the first time in literal years and scales the building. Because two can play at that game and after her conversation with Taru, her emotions are a bit off-kilter. Both from the reminder that she'll be barred from attending the Inuzuka remembrance ceremony for the 10th, and talking about Genma.

Taru can say what he wants—he _wasn't _there, and he doesn't know Genma. He didn't spend almost an entire month with the man day in and day out.

She knows what she read in his tone and posture and all of the things he didn't say.

She's still hoping that if she just stays away from him for a while, lets things simmer down, she'll realize that all he did was fill that void of physical affection she was craving like she originally thought.

A few days of separation so she can try to sort herself out won't hurt anything, right? It's enough time that if he rejects her, her heart won't be crushed like a butterfly under heel.

That's not asking much.

Hiwa mutters a curse as the top of her sandals catches on a nail sticking out of the wall and she almost falls flat on her face.

All of this was easier on the mission—she half-expected a rejection.

But after he got her hopes up? After she started to let herself see 'after the mission' as them maybe getting together, and not just him doing _exactly _what he's doing now? When him liking her back stopped being an 'if'?

It just _hurts_.

Things felt so easy between the two of them, for the days right at the end. So what happened?

_He _was the one who said he didn't want to promise anything until they were back, and then he had to go and do _exactly that_.

"_I'm not going anywhere."_

And she wonders if he even realizes that's what he did. He probably just meant to promise that he wasn't going to die on her, or something.

She wishes she could have taken it that way.

Actually, she wishes that she'd never said anything in the first place because the confirmation is what makes this painful. If she had kept on thinking that she was the only one caught up in this mess, at least she could have used that to talk herself out of it. Told herself to let it go because it would never happen. Reminded herself that if he knocked over her glass of milk without even realizing it and didn't stick around to help her wipe up the spill, there was nothing to throw a fit over because accidents happened, he never meant to hurt her.

This wasn't an accident, and he knows full well what he's done. Even if he didn't mean that promise how he did, going from cuddling and touching and making heartfelt promises to almost letting her walk past and not even saying 'hi' when she stopped to talk with them is night and day. That's a purposeful change in behaviour, and he can't brush it off as if he doesn't know how she feels.

He does. And he's doing this anyways.

Hiwa pushes the slider on the porch open with a bit more force than needed, and it shudders in its frame.

She wonders if this would have hit her as hard if it took place two months back. If the creeping dread that hits her once September nears its end is making this worse than it would have otherwise been.

Kakashi's standing in front of her fridge, browsing through her food.

He doesn't turn to look at her as she slips in through the slider. He doesn't look at her when she drops her bags onto the couch. And he doesn't acknowledge her as she enters the kitchen, headed right towards him.

Hiwa stands with her hip leaned against the counter, a foot away from him as he browses through her fridge like it's his own.

Because she has an idea, and it's a terrible one.

She pushes herself off the counter and puts herself right up into his personal space. Still nothing.

So, she steps to the side, putting herself between him and the fridge. Kakashi doesn't move an inch. He stands there, frozen, hand still rifling through the fridge, as they're suddenly so close that her nose is almost touching his from the way he's slouched forward.

Is she going to regret this? Maybe. But she has a hypothesis to test.

She goes up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his masked ones.

Kakashi doesn't move.

After half a minute, if not less, she rocks back onto her heels and sighs.

Mild, Kakashi says, "Did you get what you wanted from that?"

"Not really."

Before she can blink, his hands are on her shoulders and his bare lips are against hers and all she can think about is how soft they are and the fact that his kiss is surprisingly gentle—steady and experienced, but careful in a way Genma's weren't. It's lazy and collected, no rushing the process, no overwhelming passion. Just a surety and consideration that warms her all the way down to her toes.

It's everything she remembers and more. And she's brought right back to remembering how she'd tumbled into crushing on somebody so hateable ninety-five percent of the time because there's something _more _to the way he kisses.

She's so wrapped up in the kiss that she only registers the way he's guiding her out of the way of the fridge when he breaks away from her, his mask pulled back up by the time she opens her eyes again.

_Asshole._

"Well?" he asks, sounding like he doesn't care at all. "Better?"

Hiwa's hand flutters up to her mouth.

The desire to be touched feels suitably quenched, that's for sure.

But the ache? When she pokes at it, like an open wound she feels it protest, sharp and uncomfortable. Her eyes fall shut and she sighs.

"No," she mumbles.

He hums. "Shame."

She presses a hand to her forehead, angling her palm to cover her eyes.

That was supposed to do it.

Kissing Kakashi felt as good as kissing Genma did, if not better. If all she felt for Genma was some kind of complicated lust, kissing somebody else would have solved it, right? That ache would be soothed and she could move on with her day.

It's not soothed.

In fact, it almost feels worse because thinking about that kiss with Kakashi has _something _sparking in her chest that she outright refuses to acknowledge because one of those at a time is more than enough.

And she knows she's going to regret this, too, in a few hours, when she's gotten a better handle on herself, but she's hurting and frustrated and confused and she finds herself asking, "You know Genma and I had something going on the mission, right?"

"Given that we had a discussion on this very subject—"

"After that, we talked about it. We started… you know? I don't even know what we started. But it was something."

"Drama."

"And once we got back to the village, the first time he saw me, he just… pulled all the way back," she mumbles, as if he hadn't said anything. It's like a dam with a crack in it, and the longer the leak drips the more it presses against the crack and the more water comes out until eventually, the damn breaks open entirely and all the water pours out in a rush. "Didn't even come visit me while I was out or after I woke up, even when _you _did."

"I take offence to that."

"Am I a doormat for not hating him?" she asks. "Am I… Kami. I should be mad, right? I'm supposed to be upset? Because this isn't _fair_ and I'm so tired of this. So why aren't I mad? Why can't I just… get mad at him?"

Kakashi freezes. He pulls his arm back and stares at her like she's some kind of rabid dog.

She should shut up at this point. He's uncomfortable. She's not thinking straight and unloading her problems on somebody who isn't equipped to deal with them or offer her any kind of constructive advice. And who probably doesn't _care_, has no reason to, beyond what gossip value all of this holds for him.

She got invested in Kakashi, for some dumb reason—it was a one-way street. Will be a one-way street _again_, if she's feeling what she thinks she's feeling because that popping up again sounds exactly like her luck right now.

"He told me he wasn't going anywhere, and then he just _walked away_. So how come I'm _stuck _feeling… whatever this is for him, still? Why can't I just get mad at him and let it _go_?"

Kakashi's eye widens.

He looks vaguely like a civilian who's just stumbled across a grizzly bear, from the way he's leaned all the way away from her and staring at her in some kind of blank, dumbfounded horror. His hermit status is common knowledge; it's clear that he's not used to having people pour their guts out to him like this.

Though, she thought she might be the exception, at this point.

She feels the wetness on her cheeks and realizes that she's crying, to boot.

Hiwa mutters a curse and rubs her eyes with the bottom of her shirt and when she pulls it back down he's gone, the fridge still open.

That's twice in two days she's scared him off, now. That has to be a record.

"I'm a mess," she mutters to herself.

She pushes the fridge closed.

A voice in the back of her head tells her she ought to put her clothes away before they can wrinkle any worse than they probably already have, but the energy isn't there. This "emotions" thing is tiring business. She's spent. It's a problem for future Hiwa.

The bags end up on the ground and she plops down onto her couch. She doesn't even have it in her to kick her shoes off. She just grabs a blanket, drapes it over herself, and settles her head on the throw pillow.

She's out in seconds.

.

.

The smell of food rouses her.

When she opens her eyes, she catches sight of a silver-haired silhouette as it ghosts out the door and onto her balcony, leaving the door open a crack behind them. She drags herself up.

She's surprised when it's her bare feet that hit the ground—she knows she went to sleep with her shoes on, today. But that thought is discarded when she registers what's in front of her,

On the table is a box of takeout with a book sat on top of it.

Her book, the one she 'lent' Kakashi.

She gets up long enough to stick the box into the fridge and settle the book back in its home on the shelf, then she goes back to her nap. But this time, there's a smile on her face.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, double update because I lowkey highkey forgot to post on here last week.  
Also I just wanna throw it out there - I know I used to be real great about responding to comments but uhhh my inbox is nearing 200 right now and I'm like, insanely overwhelmed. So I'm really sorry if you haven't gotten a response in a bit! I read all of them as they come through in email form, and I'm going to clear my inbox and try to start responding again <3

_I saw that you were perfect, and I_

_love you. Then I saw that you were not_

_perfect and I loved you even more._

* * *

"So. Talk to Hiwa lately?"

Genma shifts, settling his elbow on his pillow and propping his head on it. The sheets fall down to his hips at the movement, and Genma feels a sort of mild satisfaction at the way Kakashi's eye traces down his naked torso. "Have _you_?"

"Perhaps."

Genma squints. "Did you fuck me just to get gossip out of me?"

"No need. I already have the gossip."

"Uh-huh."

"Mah, can't I just want you for your muscles and pretty face like everybody else?"

"... fine. I'll bite. What did Hiwa say to you?"

Because she's said not a single thing to Genma, and it's starting to eat away at him. Which is his own fault. But so many days spent talking to her, getting to know her, just _being around her_, and he's felt her absence like a ghost in his house.

When he's in the jonin lounge and he hears the coffee maker go on, he expects it'll be her. He sees a figure lounged under a tree reading and it takes him off guard when he realizes they lack the mane of dark brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. If he looks to his right, the side she always stood on, it surprises him when he finds somebody else walking on it, chatting away with him.

He misses her.

He has no right to, none at all, but he does and it fucking _aches_.

"Oh, you know. It's a bit of a blur—so much that it's hard for me to remember, exactly. But I think it went something like 'once we got back to the village, the first time he saw me, he just… pulled all the way back' and 'am I a doormat for not hating him?' Oh, and my personal favourite: 'He told me he wasn't going anywhere, and then he just _walked away_'," Kakashi says, complete with a slightly higher voice. He shrugs. "There were some tears, too."

With a sigh, Genma drags a hand down his face.

Each quote is an ice cube in his gut, and that last one chills his insides like a snap freeze.

Kakashi hums. "Don't tell me you thought you could just pull away from her without making a mess."

"Can you at least _try _and sound like you aren't having fun with this?"

"Fine." In a tone cold enough to freeze a volcano, Kakashi says, "You're making an ass of yourself. Somebody who cares about you is hurting and confused because you've decided protecting yourself is more important than her feelings, even if you think you're doing it to help her."

Genma sits up fully and stares at Kakashi.

Kakashi lets his book fall away for a few seconds to smile at Genma.

To figure out which of the two ranges Kakashi actually falls on, Genma would pay any amount of money because he doesn't know what to make of this dichotomy. It's not unlike Kakashi—jumping from one extreme to another is on-brand enough, considering Kakashi would eat nails before letting anybody get a proper gauge on how he feels.

Which is a sentiment Genma has no room to judge on, at this point.

But it's not helping the already frustrating situation that Genma's gotten himself into, thanks to his own stupidity.

"No matter what you do, you should work fast," Kakashi says, back to cheery. "Chop chop. No time like the present. Seize the day."

First, it was Raidou. Then it was Izumo and Kotetsu, needling him at lunch a few days ago. Then it was _Gai_, having caught wind of the situation and peppering him with questions during training.

And now it's Hatake Kakashi, the absolute last person who should ever be giving relationship advice.

Not that any of them are wrong. They're not. But they don't _understand. _None of them have a fucking clue what they're talking about, except maybe Raidou and now, definitely Kakashi. The only one who was there, and the only one, Genma suspects, that might have some idea of what his current situation is like.

So, as tempted as Genma is to just keep telling people to shove off, he can't help but wonder if it's time for him to take the fucking hint. Time to quit being a hypocrite—he was the one who said he wanted to be friends, with their arrangement. As it is, he's acting like a shitty almost-whatever-the-fuck-that-was—he's definitely being a shitty _friend_, too. Which he knew but had hoped to ignore.

Hard to ignore the consequences when they're thrown in your face.

Because he could put up with the ache in his chest of not having Hiwa around, but he can't deal with knowing he's given her that same ache, too.

A bit annoyed and ready to have his room to himself, Genma says, "You sound like Gai, right now."

And right on cue, Kakashi disappears out of the bed in a puff of smoke.

* * *

Hiwa already has her book over her face and a groan on her lips, fully aware of what's about to come, when somebody slams their hand down on her door. Around the peach and apricot scented candle flickering on her table, she can smell ink and fresh linens, along with a hint of sweat.

"You brat!" Jiraiya says, his voice muffled through the door. "What about 'meet me at two' did you not understand?"

Hiwa looks to where Rei was situated half on the rug and half off—as much as she _could _fit on the rug, with the table in the way—and finds the spot empty and her slider wide open.

Her head falls back onto the couch.

Great. Right when Hiwa would have _loved _to have her giant murder wolf kicking around (because Jiraiya hasn't wormed his way out of Rei's shit book quite yet), Rei has to go and ditch her.

Some days she wonders if she has a cat stuck inside a wolf's body for a ninken partner.

"I know you're in there! Open the damn door, or I'll open it for you!"

"Kami, do you have to be so dramatic?" she mutters. She slips a bookmark into the book and throws off her blanket.

"Yes? It's been two hours! I happen to have _things _to do."

She trudges to the door, dragging her heels. The door opens with a yank. "That was _rhetorical_," she says. "I was asking for my own benefit." She frowns. "And what things do you have to do? Go peep in on some women?"

With the door out of the way, Hiwa gets the full force of Jiraiya's scowl. "That's none of your business."

"Alright."

She steps aside and gestures him in.

Jiraiya steps inside, grumbling to himself the whole way.

She will give him some credit—he didn't come through the window, like everybody else seems inclined to do and like she'd expect from him, based on past experience.

He gives the room an appraising look. "Huh. Looks like my gal did a decent job in here."

"Yeah," Hiwa says. "She told you to go suck ass, too."

Jiraiya makes a vaguely annoyed sound in the back of his throat. "'Course she did."

"Not surprised?"

"No. And you wouldn't be if you knew who it was."

"Who was it? I want to thank her."

"None of your business."

Hiwa rolls her eyes. "Tell her I said 'thanks', at least?"

"We'll see."

She wanders into the kitchen while Jiraiya makes himself at home on the couch. "Coffee? Tea? Water?"

"Tea."

"I've got peach or jasmine," she says, rifling through the glass jar. Fresh stuff—she can smell it. And it's not anything she bought herself.

Somebody put this tea in her house and has been drinking it.

She puts a pin in that one.

"Jasmine."

So, she sets the kettle and leans her elbows on the kitchen counter, staring at Jiraiya out of the corner of her eye. "What's the meeting about, anyway? Another mission already?"

"Not yet," Jiraiya says. "Few more weeks on that one."

Which, as luck will have it, might very well send her out right _after_ the 10th. She's grateful for that—having a mission to bury her head in sounds like exactly what she's going to need.

"Oh. Awesome."

"This is about your whole Nara business."

Hiwa stiffens.

The sound of the radio drones on in the background, some sad song with a steady guitar strum to lead along the crooning voice as it sings.

"What about it?" Hiwa asks quietly.

Jiraiya narrows his eyes on her. "I know that voice. What do you already know?"

"Shikaku made some dumb, ominous comments to me while I was handing in my mission report a few days ago."

"What _kind _of dumb, ominous comments?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, knowing what's about to come. She can't lie—Jiraiya is his own kind of lie detector, even without Inuzuka senses. Being upfront is her only option but she's sure he's about to skewer her.

"Something about how Genma had already handed in his mission report."

The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees. "And what, pray tell, might Shikaku have found in there that would interest him?"

"Didn't you read it?"

"No," he says. "I was there for the debrief. The reports were given directly to Shikaku because he's the one using the information to form our strategy to deal with Kusa."

The kettle screams.

Hiwa pushes herself off of the counter and busies herself with pouring the cup of tea, her back to Jiraiya. She stirs the cup, sets the spoon in the sink, and turns back around.

Jiraiya watches her with hawk eyes as she brings over his tea. The saucer hits the glass tabletop with a soft clink.

"_Hiwa_."

"I taught myself how to use the Nara shadow techniques."

Jiraiya never knew because Hiwa's never mentioned it in her reports and Kakashi doesn't turn his reports in. No other Konoha ninja has seen her use it—the only other two people who knew she could do it were Shinji and Hiro, and they're not telling anybody her secret anytime soon.

"You… _idiot_. Why did you never tell me?"

Hiwa rolls her eyes. "Wasn't relevant?"

"Oh, try again."

"None of your business."

"Seriously? Why did you never—_seriously_?"

"What?" Hiwa says. "Why is this such a big deal to you?"

She expected annoyance, sure, for keeping information from him. But this is a step beyond what she thought she was going to get.

"Because who the fuck do you think has been running interference for you between the Nara and the Inuzuka? And between those chuckle fucks and Lord Hokage?"

Hiwa's mouth goes dry. "... you have?"

"Yes," he says. "I have. And now that job is going to be infinitely more difficult."

"You never mentioned you were involved," she says. "And nobody told me you were."

"You think I'd be that obvious about it? I have agents getting involved."

"Since when?"

"Since I heard you were going around asking random asshats on the street to marry you and realized that this was eating away at you."

"They weren't random. I did research."

"Cool. Not the point."

She lets out a long breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you didn't need to know."

"I don't think you get to decide what I do and don't need to—"

"You're seventeen!" he says. "I mean, fuck, kid. You're too young to have to be worrying about this in the _first _place! Kami. I just wanted to make your life a bit easier, alright?"

Hiwa takes a step back, unsure of what to say.

"Look. I'm at least sort of responsible for you, and I have been since Lord Third dumped this—this little wisp of a twelve-year-old on my hands and told me to give her marching orders. What else was I supposed to do?"

Jiraiya rakes a hand through his disastrous hair. "And I get that I haven't always done… the best things. At all. Alright? I've fucked up along the line. But _somebody _has to look out for you. No parents to help you out on the front lines, no jonin sensei. Nobody on your team. I was the only one left who could try and take the weight of the world off your shoulders, and that's what I've been trying to do. 'Specially since your dad was gone for real. So, yeah. When I found out that that was a thing I put some of my agents on it, to try and put a wedge in things. Prolong it. Make you more trouble than you were worth. Which worked well enough, once you and Shiranui got hitched because by that point, neither of them had the energy to chase too hard."

She walks over to the counter and feels like she should do _something_, but there's nothing that feels right, no kind of physical contact that she can extend to him, so she settles for closer proximity.

The look he gives her is still sour, but the frustration in it has ebbed. "And now you've gone and made yourself valuable again."

"Oops," she mutters.

"Understatement," he says. "Because right now, it sounds like the Nara think they have some kind of trump card."

"Something to do with the shadow technique."

"I'm guessing so, yeah."

"But it's not a blood limit," Hiwa says. "There's no inherent claim they have on somebody, just because they can use it."

When Jiraiya doesn't immediately agree, dread pools in her gut.

"_Right_?" she asks.

"From what I know."

"You think they might."

"I think this village has a shit ton of laws and rules and regulations and exceptions and I don't know every single one of them."

"Would Lord Hokage take their side, if they pulled something out of their ass? Tsume said he probably wouldn't, and from what I've always heard, it doesn't _sound _like he would. But if you weren't concerned you wouldn't have even brought it up."

"Any other time, I'd say they don't have a chance."

"... but?"

"But, Kusa has him on edge right now, and Lord Hokage might very well give them what they want just to shut them the fuck up so he can focus on more important matters and keep on the good side of his jonin-commander. Right now isn't exactly the best time to piss off his most valuable strategic mind."

"Is it that bad with Kusa?"

"That and worse. They're teetering between ready for war and being scared," Jiraiya says. "Can't seem to make up their mind. Anytime they meet our ninja on the borders, they run before conflict breaks out. But they've had no problem sending their forces ninja into Fire Country. That hot spring was one hit of a handful where we were taking out Kusa ninja in the country. Right now we're looking to get a force together and scare them off our border."

Which translates to 'we're going to send a squad of ninja to hunt on the borders and take out any Kusa ninja they come across'. It's an act of aggression, an ultimatum—Kusa can either answer in kind and kick off a war, or they can realize they're outmatched and back off.

"Well, shit," Hiwa mutters. "Don't blame him for not wanting to deal with this with a possible war on the horizon."

"Exactly. Which I'm sure Shikaku knows damn well is the case, too."

"Shouldn't this be low on your priority list, too? Not that I don't appreciate the help, but…"

"Well, yeah. Which is why I can't have idiots wasting two hours of my time."

"Sorry."

"But I'm making time. Because sometimes that's what you do."

"Thanks," she murmurs.

He nods. "I'll get this figured out, alright? But no more secrets. Surprises like this aren't going to help us any. I'll see what I can do—have an agent or two start hunting through some of the older laws and all that, when there's time."

"What are the odds that they might have something?"

"I won't guess at something when I don't have any information," he says. "Until I know what they have, I can't say."

Hiwa takes her lip between her teeth.

Because obviously she's worried about whatever the Nara are about to try and pull, and how that might complicate things. But another war? This soon? Damn if that doesn't send a shock of ice right down into her bones.

Konoha isn't ready for another war—_she's _not ready for another war.

Jiraiya claps her on the shoulder. "I mean it. Don't worry about this—any of this. Just deal with getting through the next two weeks."

"Easier said than done."

"I know," he says.

She gives him a weak smile. "Thank you. Really. It… it means a lot. To know that you're looking out for me, like that."

"Yeah? Try and remember that the next time I lift something from your mission reports—"

Hiwa groans. "Nevermind, get out of my house."

He gives her a cheeky grin and a wink, then he's gone out the window.

And in the silence of her house, Hiwa smiles to herself.

* * *

When the next day somebody knocks on her door, Hiwa starts to wonder if she's going to have to start hiding around the village again just to get some uninterrupted reading time.

Naturally, she doesn't make any move to answer the door. Rei lifts her head out of curiosity, but is content to ignore it, too, and settles herself back down on the rug, her current favourite nap-spot in the house.

"I know you're in there."

Rei pins her ears back and snarls at the door.

Genma.

"Do you?" she answers.

"I think so, yeah."

"Then just come in—the door's not locked."

"You don't lock your door?" he asks, slipping inside. He shuts the door behind him and does, in fact, lock it.

"No," she says. "Because I don't feel the need to lock my door when I'm behind it."

He makes a face but doesn't comment.

She closes her book around her thumb and watches him as he slips his shoes off and shuffles into the apartment. He takes an appraising look around.

"Nice, huh?" she says.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah."

She doesn't think the air was this uncomfortable around them even when they were actual strangers.

Hiwa gestures at the armchair with her book. "You can sit down."

He snorts, and from the wry smirk that lingers on his lips, she can imagine that he's aware of the awkwardness on the same level as she is.

"What can I do for you?" she asks, once he's settled in.

"A trip to a cafe would be nice, honestly."

She blinks.

Genma clicks his teeth against the senbon, and Hiwa can hear the way his heartbeat hammers in his chest. "There's a cute one just down the street," he says. "I've heard their pastries are some of the best in Konoha."

"Right now?"

"Yep."

She should say no. She _wants _to say no.

But the exhaustion that seems woven into the fabric of him, the droop in his shoulders and the tiredness of his eyes, and the way he's staring at her like she's some kind of novelty, it gets her.

"Alright. Let me get dressed."

.

.

The light blue dress flutters in Hiwa's lap as a breeze rolls over them.

She didn't do much other than put on some clothes—her hair was already braided, albeit messily, and nothing about this situation is worth throwing on mascara and lip gloss. So here she is. Sitting in a new dress, across from Genma at some cafe ten minutes down the street from her new apartment, torn between the comfortable warmth in her chest from being around Genma again and the discomfort of everything unsaid that lingers between them like a smog.

"What can I get for you two?" the waitress asks, once they've had about ten minutes of awkward silence between them to look at the menus.

Genma hands the menu to the woman and smiles. "I'll take the daifuku assortment plate and a green tea."

"Just a coffee, please," Hiwa says. "With cream, two sugar, and cinnamon, if you don't mind."

It gets her an odd look, but all the waitress says is, "Of course. I'll bring those right over for you."

And again, the two lapse into silence.

There's so much Hiwa wants to say that she can't fathom going back to their usual routine of twenty questions, random chatter and people- watching, and all the other crutches they relied on before to keep the back and forth alive.

It feels too mundane. Like a farce.

"What were you reading, when I came in?"

She looks at him incredulously. That's what he asks, in the face of everything?

There's a soft request in how he returns the look, though, that melts away the annoyance.

"_A Tale of Green Hands_," she answers. "It's a book about a medic-nin who runs—"

"—a mini-hospital out of her house to try and treat ANBU patients that always avoid the hospital."

"You've read it."

"Borrowed it from the library a few months back," he says. He smirks. "Branching from the romance, huh?"

She rolls her eyes. "_Yes_, I'm reading something that isn't a romance."

"What got you into it?"

"I picked it up back while I was in Wind Country," she says, trying not to pull a face at that. She shrugs. "Since the author is from Suna, I thought it would be interesting to see what kind of perspective he might have of a Konoha ninja."

"I didn't know that," he says.

"That the author is from Suna?"

"Yeah. I figured they were at least from Fire Country 'cause it's pretty accurate, all things considered. Dated, yeah, but not so far off."

"It's old enough, you're right." She runs her thumb up and down one of her braids, tapping her sandalled foot against the ground. "The author wrote it after the Second Ninja War—he was part of an exchange program that they ran in the interwar years to try and foster a better relationship between Konoha and Suna. We got some of Suna's poison students, they got some of our medic-nin in training. Did a bit of an information swap. Nothing huge, but a kind of show of grace, I guess. The guy who wrote the book was one of the poison students they sent over, so he wrote a lot of it based on first hand experiences."

Genma cocks his head, flicking the senbon up and down with his tongue. "How'd you find that out?"

"I've got a Wind Country copy, remember? Different stuff was printed in it. They didn't put the biography in the prints anywhere outside of Wind Country. Though, I think that was only the first run of it—after that, they stopped putting it in any of the copies. My copy was second hand, so it was old enough to have it."

"Huh," he says. "I'd wondered if Tsubaki was based off of Tsunade—this just makes me think more that she is. She probably would have been heavily involved in a program like that, if not running it herself. She butt heads with the Suna ninja more than anybody. I can see how she'd want first crack at any information on their poisons that she could get."

Hiwa blinks. "I never even thought of that, honestly," she says. She tugs on her braid harder. "But it… makes a lot of sense."

He grins at her, crooked and easy, and Hiwa's heart somersaults.

She smiles back before thinking about it.

"You think?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I might go and look into it a bit, later. Because I'm curious now. But I think that's a solid theory."

"Sounds like fun," Genma says. "We could always drop by the library after we're done here."

And the smile dampens like tiny embers flickering under the first dribbles of a rainshower.

This is why this entire trip is a bad idea—the way he can so smoothly work his way through these interactions, acting like nothing ever happened. He might be able to switch right back to how things used to be, but she _can't_, and she can't handle being around him if he doesn't understand that.

The waitress picks this moment to bring their things by, saving Hiwa from having to answer.

Genma doesn't press her for one, even after the waitress is gone.

Hiwa stirs her coffee and watches as Genma picks at his daifuku, ripping off little chunks and dipping it into his tea before he pops it into his mouth. She can read the unease in his posture, and how it grows as the silence stretches on, neither of them willing to break it again.

When she does take a sip of her coffee, she finds that it's not that bad, at least. Better than she expected. No comparison to Wind Country, but a step above what she usually finds within Konoha, and she marks the place in her head as somewhere she'll have to come back to, once she can block the association between the place and this awkward situation.

She's half done her cup when Genma clears his throat. "So."

Her cup hits the plate. "So?"

"I think we need to talk about what this is."

And because Hiwa is a coward who is nowhere near ready to have this conversation, she pushes her chair back and clears her throat. "Shit, sorry. I forgot I had a meeting with Jiraiya this afternoon—something about information he wants to go over from my mission report."

Genma frowns. "Hiwa…" But whatever he sees in her face has him shaking his head. "Yeah, alright. But—just, before you go."

"Yeah?"

"The Lunar Festival tomorrow," he says. "Want to go together?"

And if she felt like an asshole for lying her way out of a conversation they both know they need to have, she feels like a _double _asshole because if she had any doubt that his intention of setting things right were earnest, this wipes them away.

The Lunar Festival is a mess of people and crowds and they both know that. And they both know full well that it's not somewhere Genma will want to be.

But he knows she does. And he's offering to go with her.

It's an olive branch if she's ever seen one and if he's going to take three steps towards her in cleaning up whatever this mess is, then Hiwa thinks the least he deserves is for her to take a step towards him, too.

She manages a smile for him. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah. Sure. Swing by my apartment around six."

The grin he gives her reminds her of how and why she's screwed.

It's not some big, blinding thing, that could light up an entire room or power a village. There are no sexy eyes that go along with it, or anything stupid like all the romance novels like to do, where the male lead's grin is some kind of seduction deus ex machina.

Genma's grin hits her because it's subtle and sweet and a little off-kilter, but uniquely his in the way that it comes so easy, the same way his kindness does. Anything from cracking a joke to saving his life can earn you that grin, because he values the little and the large, the easy and the challenging. It's a grin of somebody who's been stomped on by the world to the point that it's like he expects the boot to keep coming down, and he's grateful when every once in a while, the world decides to prove him wrong.

Hiwa clears her throat again, hoping the tightness in her throat might ease.

Genma might have intended for this coffee meeting to be the easy break, of sorts, the official end of their mini-fling, or whatever it was, after a week and a bit of disastrous limbo.

But all it's done is show Hiwa that time, Genma's bullshit, and another man's lips has done absolutely nothing to wipe away her crush.

"See you tomorrow, then," he says.

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

And she runs away with her tail tucked between her legs.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

_I gave you my heart, not expecting you_

_to give it back to me in pieces._

* * *

"You're a surprisingly difficult person to find."

Hiwa laughs, flipping a page in her book. "By design."

"I can go?"

"Only if you leave the dango here."

Raidou smiles at her. It's small and private, the kind of thing that she doubts he gives away like candy. "Mind if I sit?" he asks. "I will actually just give you the dango and go if you want."

Hiwa lifts herself up from where she's leaned back against the tree, careful not to squish the dandelion sprouted out between the roots by her thigh. She closes her book over her thumb and gestures with it to the spot in front of her.

"Thanks."

He settles himself down and looks around.

The little meadow is situated amidst one of Konoha's many forests, and it's the most remote of her hiding spots. Enough people have interrupted her lately. So, she pulled out the big guns and trekked out here for the day, a basket of her favourite takeout and a couple of books packed with her to sustain her through the hours.

"Took me forever to find you here, honestly," he says. "I had to bribe one of the messenger hawk handlers to let me send one hunting for you to find you."

Surprised that he's pushing off the conversation like he is—she thought he'd be more of the short and sweet type, to jump headfirst into his conversations—she tilts her head. "Yeah? What'd you have to trade?"

Raidou pulls a face. "Said I'd help him practice for his chunin exams, coming up."

"Cute."

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Thought you'd be at your apartment, at this point, getting ready for the festival tonight."

"What time is it?"

"Almost four."

"Huh. Yeah, guess I should probably head back soon." She slips a bookmark into her book and lets it sit in the little crook between her legs. She trades it for the dango. "I'm guessing that's what brought you here?" she asks around a bite. "What's going on between me and my date for the evening?"

Raidou shrugs. "Well, yeah."

Hiwa waves the bag of dango at him in a 'go on' gesture, too occupied with chewing to say anything.

"He's being an idiot."

She chokes out a laugh, coughing as she tries to swallow down what's left in her mouth. "Wow," she manages. "Didn't think you were going to sell him out like that."

"Not selling him out—he's doing that himself."

"I'm not going to disagree," she says. "But I think I need a bit more to go on, here."

"It's not my place to get too far into it. That's something he has to do for himself. But I just wanted you to know that I don't think he's doing the right thing, even if I know why he's doing it."

Hiwa crumples up the dango bag and tosses it at Raidou. He catches the soiled paper ball, staring down at it.

"Grief makes people do funny things, sometimes."

His chin jerks back up to look at her.

"He's never said anything about it if that's what you're wondering," she says. "I mean, I can make some guesses. But I've never asked and he's never told me. I just know what that's like."

"I don't think that excuses what he's doing," Raidou says.

"Neither do I."

"Good."

"You want me to be against him, with this?"

"I want you to be somebody who can recognize his flaws and hold him accountable, rather than somebody who lets him get away with shit he shouldn't get away with just for the sake of staying around him."

She tilts her head, watching him, and tugs on one of her braids.

"Genma's the kind of person who… tends to do stupid things without realizing how stupid they are until it's too late and he can't fix it anymore."

"And you're hoping I'll stay around even if he's already broken things?"

"No. I just want you to know that until it hits him that he _has _broken things, he's probably not going to realize what he's done. That if _you _want to fix things with him, you can't push him to do it on your time—he's going to have to do it on his."

She starts to trace an infinity shape on her knee, and her nails leave light red marks in their wake. "I don't know that I have much of a choice," she says.

And Raidou nods like he expected this answer. "I guess with what's going on with the Inuzuka and Nara, stepping away probably means divorce and that's not—"

The smile on her face is tight and uncomfortable, made up of sharp edges. "Not like that."

He stares at her. She can see the gears turning in his head, and a few seconds later, he blinks and she knows that it's hit him.

"Oh," he says. "You're… still into him."

"Unfortunately."

Raidou nods slowly. "I see. Well—"

The sound of a messenger hawk cutting through the air above them catches her ear, and Hiwa looks up just in time to watch it break through the foliage above them. It banks, right towards them, and she can see the message attached to its leg.

It's not a mission message. The seal isn't right—green, red, and black are for missions, varying levels of urgency. This one is blue, the colour for personal correspondences.

And the hawk is headed right towards her.

It pulls back just in time to flutter down onto Hiwa's knee softly, careful not to dig its claws into the bare skin. She pulls the message off of it's leg and the hawk goes back on its way without waiting for anything else.

"Who's sending you a message this late?" Raidou asks.

Hiwa breaks the seal with her thumbnail and lets it roll open on her palm. Her gut twists into a pretzel as she scans the words.

_Meet me immediately at my office. Clan business._

_Nara Shikaku_

"Nobody good," she mumbles. "Kami, what a pain."

"Something wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. And, sorry, but I have to go—I can't let this one sit." She gets up and brushes off her dress. "If you see Genma, warn him I might be running a bit late tonight, if you don't mind?"

"Sure."

She throws her stuff into her basket, and in the corner of her eye, she watches as Raidou gets up and frowns, his gaze locked on her the entire time.

A tight smile finds its way onto her face as she gets up, the basket rested on the crook of her elbow. "And keep this place to yourself, yeah? Don't want people flocking to it."

She heads off in the direction of the mission building, which holds the office for the Jonin Commander.

Raidou catches her wrist on her way by. Hiwa stiffens.

"I know I don't know you very well," he says, "but if something's going on—"

Gently, she pulls her arm back. "I swear, it's nothing you can help with. And nothing Genma can help with, for that matter," she says. "Forget you heard anything about it, alright?"

"Alright."

"Good. Then, I'll see you tonight, at the festival."

"Yeah, yeah. See you then."

.

.

Tempting as it is to take her sweet time in getting to Shikaku, Hiwa knows she's on a tight schedule with the festival, so she drops her stuff off at home and heads right to his office.

She calls for Rei to come back on the way there. Rei, diligent as ever, is at her side in less than a minute, and Hiwa feels a rush of gratitude.

Shikaku's waiting at his desk for her. There's a cup of sake sitting out beside a stack of paperwork, and when he glances up at her as she's led into the room by one of the desk chunin, it's with the confidence of somebody who doesn't need enhanced senses to know exactly who's behind the door each time there's a knock at it.

"Hiwa," he says. "Glad you came here in a reasonable time."

"Thought you were going to have to fetch me?"

He inclines his head and gestures for her to sit at the chair across from him. "Maybe."

Hiwa settles herself down in the chair without taking her eyes off him. Rei sits beside her, her head almost up to Hiwa's shoulder. In the corner of her eye, Hiwa can see the way Rei's lips are pulled back into a ghost of a snarl.

Shikaku takes the two of them in with an impassive eye. There's nothing forced about it—it's the same easy confidence as before. The Nara tend to grind on people's nerves because they take this kind of confidence for arrogance, but Hiwa knows there's nothing arrogant about it. It's the confidence of somebody who, aside from when they're around their clansmen, is used to being the smartest person in the room. Shikaku happens to have the strength of a jonin to back that intellect up, too.

He's not cocky. His smile is, sure. But the difference is that she knows that Shikaku has the proficiency to back it up in spades, and _that's_ what makes him dangerous.

He's second only to Lord Hokage for a reason.

He holds up a stack of papers. "Shiranui Genma's mission report," he says, waving them around. The packet falls from his grip and onto the simple black tabletop with a resounding thump. "Quite an interesting read. Especially that little part where he identified a jutsu you used to restrain an enemy Kusa nin—something that you, funnily enough, skimmed over in your own report—as the Nara Shadow Technique."

It's a waste of time to skate around the conversation, shits and giggles aside, so she says, "Probably because it was my own version of the Nara Shadow Technique."

"There we go. Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"We'll see."

Shikaku quirks an eyebrow.

He pushes his chair back and opens one of the drawers. He digs around. She can hear the files rustle against each other as he does, and catches the low hum that comes from Shikaku when he finds what he's looking for.

Rather than explain this one, he slides it across the table to her.

She doesn't dare move her hands from where they're folded in her lap, her knuckles white.

It's a copy of one of the thousands of legal reports that have been produced since the village was founded. As far as she knows, they come about when the Hokage of the time was settling a matter and he wants it to set a precedence. The smaller, stupid laws that nobody _actually _pays attention.

Like comparing traffic laws to the Constitution. Everybody knows that they have a right to free speech, but not a lot of people will know that it's illegal in some states to have anything hanging from your car's mirror if it'll make it harder for you to see.

_In light of this dispute, the unique property rights possessed by the noble clans of Konoha must be recognized, as these clans have earned these rights through their continued loyalty to the village. The Uchiha, Hyuuga, Senju, Kurama, Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clans all_—

Hiwa's gaze skips down a bit, but she thinks she knows exactly where this is going.

_It is our duty to protect the sanctity of—_

Her eyes jump further. She forces her hands to smooth out in her lap.

_In light of these unique techniques and the dangers they can pose if allowed to be practiced freely, even by those outside their respective clans, it is hereby illegal for a ninja to attempt to learn said techniques without the expressed permission of the clan, as—_

Hiwa stops reading.

Her eyes pan up to meet Shikaku's, and he nods at it. "Well?"

"You're telling me I broke the law by learning the Nara techniques on my own."

"You did," he says. "Wanna know why?"

Unable to help herself, Hiwa asks, "You going to tell me anyway?"

"Sure am." He takes the sheet back and slides it into the drawer, saying, "About twenty years again, somebody decided that they wanted to try and learn the Nara Shadow Techniques, too. They weren't part Nara—just somebody who happened to have vaguely similar yin chakra to the type Nara are born with. Enough that he had some connection to his shadow."

"And he taught himself the technique."

"Not quite," Shikaku says, "because he died trying to."

Hiwa stiffens.

"Close enough to died, at least. He went brain dead because the first time he tried it on another person, his body wasn't able to cope with the sudden disconnect from his yin chakra. The Nara technique doesn't work like most jutsu—there's no combining your yin and yang chakra to work it. It's pure yin chakra, and without the proper training, if your connection to your yin chakra isn't strong enough then when you extend it out into your shadow, and then out towards your enemy, your chakra systems won't be able to reel it back in."

"And it severs the connection between your soul and your physical body."

Because that's what yin chakra is—your soul. Just like yang chakra is your body.

He inclines his head. "So you did some background reading, at least."

"I tracked a couple of Nara through the library," she says. "Saw what kind of chakra theory books they were reading and got them for myself. Extrapolated the rest from there."

It was nowhere near a perfect way to go because a lot of the necessary information was kept locked up in the Nara's personal library, and she had no way to access that. But she went as far as she could with the information available to her.

There were a lot of books on meditation and yin chakra theory. Basic stuff, at first, while she was just a genin. And she didn't get far when she was a chunin, either. When she became a special jonin was the point that she started to make real progress.

She thought the yin chakra theory was the most useful, and the meditation bits were fun and relaxing but ultimately inconsequential. In retrospect, with what Shikaku said, they might have saved her life as all of the ones she read advised on how to connect with your yin chakra through meditation.

The yin chakra theory didn't properly click until one day that she was reading a book on yin chakra storage and the idea hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Or, rather, the _memory _hit her.

_Floating along with a group of fellow prospects, her temporary CIA identification badge hangs off a lanyard around her neck and flaps against her chest as she walks along behind the guide. They're here as a part of their cultural training. She only had to go to the South Asian exhibits, but she decided to tag along for the Egyptian one out of interest._

"_And this is a shadow box," the tour guide says. "Egyptian folks believed that the soul was made up of a handful of parts. One of those was the sheut, or the 'shadow', and when they died they stored that part in these boxes that would then be buried with them."_

Once she came back to herself, she remembers she sat in shock for a handful of seconds, near knocked off her feet by how vivid the memory had been, when the thought caught up to her and she made the connection like a thousand-piece puzzle falling into place before her eyes.

That yin chakra theory was studied to help control your shadow, the knowledge that yin chakra and your soul were intimately connected, and now the idea that the shadow was an aspect of the soul. She had never fully wrapped her head around _why _yin chakra specifically had to be used for the Nara technique. She got it, then. Yin chakra being used to control the shadow and the soul being connected to yin chakra were two sides of the same coin—yin chakra worked best to control the shadow because it _is _the shadow.

And that was the point where she started to make progress.

She wonders if that memory-induced epiphany was another thing that kept her from killing herself trying to learn this technique.

"So it's illegal because it's dangerous?" she asks. "Then why aren't _all _dangerous jutsu illegal?"

"Because that's not the case," he says dryly. "It's illegal because, under this law, clan-specific jutsu are deemed the property of the clan they belong to due to their inherent danger, so by learning to use it without permission you've essentially stolen from the clan."

She lets out a deep breath. "And by stealing from the clan, it becomes a Nara clan matter, and the ruling of how to rectify it is up to you, not Lord Hokage."

Which meant that the clan would, theoretically, be able to provide whatever punishment they deemed fit. Including forcibly recognizing her as a Nara. In turn, that would grant _them _control over her marital status.

A white-hot burst of panic blossoms in her chest. At her side, Rei growls, and Shikaku takes this in with a cool gaze. "That's correct," he says. "Though, I plan to speak with him about this tomorrow."

Hiwa has nothing she can say to this. There's no counter-argument she can present, no loophole she can try and slip through, nothing. She's out of her depth. So, she needs to go right to the one person who won't be.

"Is that all?" she asks.

"For now."

"Then I'll be off. I have a festival to get to."

"Yeah? Say 'hi' to Genma for me, will you? Haven't seen him around in a bit."

Hiwa channels all her frustration into a sunny smile. "Sure."

.

.

"You know, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here—"

"Shikaku just told me that learning the Nara Shadow Technique is literally against the law and I can be prosecuted by the Nara for it."

Jiraiya freezes, his brush hovering over the paper. A gob of ink falls from the end of it and Jiraiya mutters a few curses.

"How did you even get in here?" he asks.

"Snuck in."

They're in the bowels of T&I, somewhere that, as Jiraiya guessed, Hiwa _technically _isn't supposed to be. But she tracked him down here and she snuck in easily enough on her own—Rei had to stay outside.

"Kami," Jiraiya mutters. He clears his throat. "Okay, hit me with that again. With a bit of context."

It takes her a few minutes to recount the entire thing and by the time she's done, Jiraiya's got his fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose and a sour look on his face.

"Yeah. Okay, yeah. This is kind of bad."

"_Kind of _bad?"

"Fucking—it's pretty bad, alright?"

"If Lord Hokage really is not wanting to deal with this, the easy way out for him is to brush it under the rug and let the Nara deal with it themselves."

"I know," Jiraiya says. "Which is why I'm going to talk to him first."

"And say _what_?"

The absolute best scenario is that Hiruzen ignores a law that was passed by one of his predecessors and throws the entire situation out. If Hiruzen puts his foot down once, she can't see the Nara trying again, not unless they stumbled into some other kind of trump card.

But in light of what Jiraiya told her? With how much else there is to deal with? The _smart _thing to do is let the Nara handle it. Both because it saves him from having to deal with it, but because right now, having his Jonin Commander on his side is going to be invaluable. Shikaku is who Hiruzen will be counting on to help him navigate the uncertain waters over the next little bit—not that she thinks Shikaku would actively not do his job because Hiruzen chose not to take his side.

Shikaku's a bit of an asshole, but he's a loyal Konoha ninja, of that she has no doubt.

More, it's like giving a dog a treat. They might sit on command without one after a bit of meandering, but a treat in front of them can make the obedience instantaneous.

Hiwa yanks on one of her braids, hard, and winces.

"Hey," Jiraiya says sharply.

She forces her gaze to lift from the concrete floor to be level with his gaze.

"I'm going to figure this out. You understand me?" he says. "I'm not going to let this sit, and I'm going to make it very clear to Lord Hokage where I stand on this."

"You think that'll help?"

"Lord Hokage doesn't ignore me when I voice my opinion."

"So, you're not sure," she translates quietly.

"I'm not. But I'm going to _try_."

He gets up out of his chair and walks over to her. Both of his hands settle over her shoulders, warm and firm, and he turns her around and leads her to the door. "And while I go and do that," he says, opening the door, "you're going to go and enjoy the festival."

"I can't—"

"You can," he says, "and you will. This is my problem now, not yours. Go… I don't know. Go get drunk, or something. That's what a seventeen-year-old is supposed to do, right?"

"I don't think you're supposed to encourage drinking, regardless of age."

"Well. Go eat some food. Maybe play some games—those things are rigged, but I'm sure you'll have no problem."

She stands outside the room.

When she doesn't immediately make for the way out, Jiraiya raises an eyebrow, expectant.

"Thank you," she says. "For having my back."

"Like I told you, kid. My responsibility. Somebody's gotta. All that jazz."

"You don't have to, though. Nothing's forcing you."

Jiraiya scoffs. "Nothing but my conscious."

"And that's enough."

She can see that he doesn't quite know how to answer, from the way he's staring at her blankly, so she throws a wave over her shoulder at him and heads off.

The situation is going to haunt her until it's settled, no matter what he says, but knowing that he's on her side makes it easier. She's grateful for that, in a way she'll never be able to describe. And as long as he's heard that from her at least once, she's satisfied.

.

.

Genma's waiting on her couch when she gets home.

She hesitates in the doorway for a second, surprised, but by the time his head turns to look at her, she's erased it from her posture and put a smile on her face.

He's in a plain black shirt and dark blue pants, his hair hanging freely around his face without a bandana to cover it. The senbon is in his mouth, as usual, and the sight of him in her house does something weird to her heart that she shoves aside.

"How come nobody gets the meaning of a locked door?" she asks.

She steps inside and shucks off her shoes, closing the door behind her.

"Dunno," he says. "Came in through the slider. That wasn't locked."

"It was when I left."

Which means that at some point, Kakashi had been in her house. Sure enough, when she casts her gaze to her bookshelf, she can see the one he'd borrowed sitting on one of the shelves and an empty slot in the shelf above it.

And he left the slider unlocked behind him because he knows that it annoys her.

Her gaze lands on the clock.

Six-thirty.

"Shit," she mutters. And because it's polite, she tacks on, "Sorry, I didn't realize it was so late."

Which isn't entirely why she's bothered by the time. More, she wants to be there as close to the start of the festival as she can.

Seven o'clock is when things really kick off because that's about when the sun's fully set and the moon can be seen in its full glory. There's always a round of fireworks set off to celebrate, and she'd rather not miss that. Not to mention that the stalls with the tsukimi dango always sell out quickly; there's never enough stalls with it to meet the demand. Which sucks because that's one of her favourite things about the festival.

The whole offering process is worthwhile, too, but that's never really been what drew her to the festival. That tends to be more for the civilians—not a lot of the ninja population believe in the spirits like that, her included.

"It's fine. Rai caught up with me."

"Oh. Good."

She's not surprised when he doesn't ask about it, and she's grateful because if he does, she's going to have to lie to him and she doesn't quite feel up to that, right now.

If things escalate, she'll tell him. But right now when there's a chance that Jiraiya might be able to sort all of this out, there's no reason because there's nothing Genma can do about what's happening. He has no clout to swing around, no connections to pull. All he'll be able to do is feel guilty for getting her into this situation.

And considering she'd be in a _worse _situation if it wasn't for him, that's not what she wants.

"Give me twenty to get ready, then I should be good," she says, headed for her room. "Tea's above the sink, and I've got some leftover takeout in the fridge from earlier today if you're hungry."

"Think I'm good. But, thanks."

"'Course."

She throws her kimono on as fast as possible and gets her hair twirled up into a woven updo in record time. The kimono is one she bought specifically for the Lunar Festival when she went out shopping—it's a simple yukata, dark green in colour with bright pink and orange flowers splattered all over it and a pink obi. On her way out of the room as she's passing her vanity, she sticks a sakura pin in her hair on impulse.

Fifteen minutes. Not too shabby.

She fiddles with her obi as she walks back into the living room, trying to slide her fan into it without squishing it. Genma's staring at her when she looks back up. He's sitting straight as a board, eyes intent, and she stops in her tracks.

"What?" she asks.

He seems to shake himself. "Nothing, sorry. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then we ought to get going. Fireworks are soon, right?"

"'Bout fifteen minutes, yeah."

"I'm sure we can find a decent rooftop to catch them from."

He grins at her, and it's the familiar grin, the one he gave her when she offered to teach him solitaire and got into stupid book debates with him, and now she knows she's the one staring.

She smiles back and hopes that it doesn't give away the ache in her chest.

Already, she regrets this.

"Yeah," she says. "Sounds good."

.

.

They end up on some shop roof in the middle of the village. The fireworks always get set from the Hokage Monument, where they'll be visible through most of the village.

Ninja litter the rooftops as the fireworks kick-off, all eager to get the best view available. She and Genma aren't picky—they pick the first empty rooftop and then less than a minute later, the sky's an explosion of brilliant lights and designs, all cast over the canvas of the crescent moon.

It's beautiful.

And the entire time, she can feel Genma hovering right at her side, so close that their hands brush a few times. Her skin tingles each time they touch and though Genma tries not to react, she can see the way his fingers twitch, as if he's having to keep himself from grabbing her hand, and that frustrates her and thrills her in equal measure.

Once the fireworks show ends, the two of them head off into the throng of people.

Hiwa is dead-set on getting to the same dango stall she always goes to—her father first took her there when she was three, and since then, every year, she's made a stop at it. She doesn't think this year will be an exception.

Genma makes a face at the mention of going down into the crowd. She feels bad because she knows full well that that's the last place he wants to be, but he invited himself to her festival experience. She won't miss out on this tradition for his comfort—they can go somewhere less crowded as soon as she has it. But she _will _get it, with or without him.

And the latter seems more likely given that they can't seem to go three feet without running into some friend of Genma's, and she's not sure there's going to be anything left by the time she gets there if she waits around for him.

First, it's Anko, who grins at them and asks how the honeymoon was.

Then Izumo and Kotetsu.

"Look at the happy couple," Kotetsu croons. "How cute!"

Genma rolls his eyes. "Not a couple."

Hiwa's smile doesn't waver for a second, even as her grip on her fan tightens.

"Rumors say otherwise," Izumo says. "I mean, you guys are married. Makes sense that you'd actually get together, too. Out of convenience if nothing else."

And all Genma does is shrug.

Next is Ibiki. He takes a look at them, side by side, and claps Genma on the shoulder before heading on his way.

Then Hayate and Yugao, out on a date. Hiwa's vaguely familiar with the two of them—both of them were in her year (but a different class) at the Academy, and she spent some time with them in the camps before she went off to Wind Country.

They chat with Genma for a couple of minutes and every once in awhile, drag Hiwa into the conversation. She answers as much as she has to for the sake of politeness. And as they leave, Hayate throws Hiwa a look that she can only translate as pity and Yugao whispers in her ear, "He'll come to his senses, he's just an idiot."

Genma stiffens and throws Yugao a look that Hiwa can't decipher.

And finally, when they're so close to the dango stand that Hiwa can practically taste it, Maito Gai makes his appearance.

He bursts through the crowd towards them with the type of confidence most people would kill for, a haori thrown over his green jumpsuit, and shouts, "Youthful Teammate!"

"Sorry," Genma mumbles to her. Louder, he says, "Hey, Gai."

"Genma! And this must be Hiwa!"

"That's me," she says. "Nice to meet you."

Gai jerks forward into a bow so low that his forehead almost smacks into the ground. The second he rights himself, without missing a beat, he says, "I must say, dear Genma, I am rather surprised to see you out here this fine evening! I have never before been able to drag you out to the festivals!"

Genma shrugs. "I knew she wanted to go, so I figured I could tag along with her for a little bit."

"That is very Youthful of you!" Gai leans over and puts a hand in front of his mouth. "And how can you say no to such a beautiful face such as that. The things we do for love, yes?"

Genma raises an eyebrow at that. Hiwa waits, but no comment leaves his lips.

Hiwa forces a wave of calm to ripple through her body. It smooths out her muscles, clears her expression, and in a neutral voice she says, "We're not in love."

She expects Gai to take the tone at face value, but she sees the way his gaze flits over her whole body with a meticulous sort of efficiency and realizes that of all the people they've encountered so far, this is the one who's going to be the most difficult to brush off.

He turns his gaze to Genma. "Is that so?" Gai asks softly.

The way Genma hesitates makes her throat tighten. His eyes flit to her, then back to Gai. "I won't contradict the lady."

And funnily enough, that's the last straw for Hiwa.

Because he's been doing this all night. Where one of his friends makes a comment—which figures that their business is the village's business, apparently, but Hiwa's long since resigned herself to the fact that the rumour mill never stops churning—and Genma answers in the vaguest way possible. He'll confirm that they're not dating, sure. Anything else? He pulls out the non-committal answers, the ones that are close enough to a denial that people are satisfied.

They're not clear cut, though, and Hiwa knows what this is. She knows what avoidance tactics look like. And what other reason to use them than having somebody standing next to you who will know if you're lying?

He won't deny that there's something going on between the two of them.

Why wouldn't he properly clear the air? She knows he doesn't like people in his business. It's in his best interest for him to cut the rumours down entirely here and now, but he isn't.

And that says enough, to Hiwa.

"I'm going to go ahead and get to the stall." And with the full intention of grabbing her dango and getting out of dodge, she says, "Find me when you're done, if you want to."

She slips into the crowd like a fish into the stream. She expects that to be the end of that, but a handful of seconds later a hand wraps around her wrist and she knows without having to look behind her that it's Genma, the rough feel of his callouses against her pulse point so familiar to her, now.

He pulls her out of the crowd and into an empty alley.

The second they stumble into the alley, the sounds of the festival dampened by the distance, she yanks her arm away from him. "What—"

"What's going on?" he asks. "And don't say nothing. I know there's something—Rai mentioned you were upset, earlier, when you got that letter, and you've clearly been bothered by it the whole night. Seriously, what is it?"

"You think…" Hiwa stares at him, long and hard, and instead of answering his question, she asks, "Why haven't you told anybody outright that we're not together?"

His jaw clenches around the senbon.

"You'll tell them we're not dating," she says, "but when they joke, try and goof around and ask you if there's something else going on still, if we like each other, you don't outright tell them 'no'. And I'm guessing you don't because you can't without lying."

"That's what this is?" he asks. His voice is so quiet; she almost doesn't hear him over the ambient noise of the crowds.

It's this, it's the situation with the Nara, it's the 10th getting closer and closer, it's the threat of war hanging over her head. It's so many things that she doesn't even know where to start and she's downright _annoyed _when she feels tears prick at her eyes.

None of this is his business. Not right now.

"What am I supposed to say here?" he asks. "I don't…" He rakes a hand through his hair. "I don't know what you want from me."

"Tell me why you acted like you didn't feel anything for me anymore when you do."

"Yeah? Tell me why you ran away the last time I tried to have this conversation with you. I wanted to clear the air and you bolted."

Her hands clench at her sides. "Because I was scared," she says. "I was scared you were going to tell me you changed your mind and that you never _actually _liked me."

The words slip out before she can reign them in and sit in the air between them, so heavy that Hiwa feels like she can't breathe.

It feels like she said too much and not enough at the same time.

Because how does she tell him that he terrified her, that she thought she'd been duped into thinking she could build a life, again. That he'd tricked her into playing into the universe's hands, an accomplice in getting her hopes up to be dashed.

She never got a relationship with her mother, but she had her father, her clan, and eventually her team. That was her family; that was her home. That was enough for her, right?

Then the war, her team. That tore down her brick house like it was straw and some dipshit wolf had blown it down.

But she still had her father and her clan with her, and Jiraiya in his own way, as able to be as he was, and that was fine. Or it would have been, _could _have been, with time.

So, she started to lay down her foundation of bricks once again only for the Kyuubi attack to crush it like a sandcastle going under when the tide rolls in.

It was only logical that she stop trying.

And then Genma went and made her do the exact thing she knew she couldn't because each time she tried her home got torn down brick by brick, and she let herself hope that not this time, that she'd have somewhere again, and he made that hope look so painfully naive.

"And I know that's not the case, now," she says. "It—I don't think you've changed your mind. But you were acting like you had. And you're _still _acting like it. So, what's your excuse?"

"_What_?"

"Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. I feel like you never just give me the full truth. Bits and pieces of it, maybe. But you're never completely upfront and honest and open and I can't deal with it." Tears freely trail down her cheeks, now. Her chest is tight and hot. But she stares at him with squared shoulders and a set jaw. "You like me. Tell me I'm wrong."

And she knows that he can't. The silence that stretches on confirms it, and the fact that he can't just give her an answer makes it all the worse.

She's laid everything down from him and he's got his cards right at his chest rather than return the favour.

Genma steps towards her and his thumb brushes the dampness off her cheek.

She knocks his hand away. "Don't," she says. "I can't play games, like this."

"Hiwa—"

She brushes past him, knocking her shoulders into his, and when she disappears into the crowd this time he doesn't reach in and pull her out.

.

.

The dango stand is all out by the time she gets there. The stall owner gives her a small, apologetic smile, and Hiwa trails off home in a daze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst :)


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

.

* * *

_Any man who claims ones emotions cannot_

_lie to them is an utter, helpless fool._

* * *

When she squints at her window and realizes that it's dark outside, the sun having risen and set again since she dropped into her bed, she decides that it's probably time to get up and move around a bit.

She doesn't bother with shorts—she just gets herself out of bed and slides into her fuzziest pair of slippers, in nothing but those and an oversized t-shirt.

Of course, because she chooses not to put pants on, Kakashi has to be out in her living room, sat down on her rug beside Rei. And he has to take in her appearance with a bland look that has her blushing for no discernable reason.

"There's a couch."

"Ah," he says. "But there's also a dog."

No arguing with that logic.

Hiwa troops into her kitchen and gets a pot of coffee going.

God, she's tired. It's not the kind of tired that she can fix with caffeine, but there's nothing else for her to do but try.

She feels like she's just gone through a breakup and that's not fair because it's from a relationship that she never really _had _in the first place. Not that her emotions seem to have gotten the memo. It's like somebody took her and threw her into a blender, dumped her out, swirled her around in their glass a bit, then tossed her into a food processor for good measure.

While the water starts to heat in the coffee maker, arguably the most expensive appliance in her kitchen—Hiwa doesn't mess around when it comes to her coffee and she's glad whoever furnished her apartment seems to have picked up on that—she starts to rifle through her shelves for a mug to suit her current mood. Something ugly and massive. A chipped old thing she grabbed for a handful of ryo is what she ends up with, one of the mugs she got at a second-hand shop a week or so ago when she wanted quantity over quality.

And as she settles into the idea, she realizes that good coffee in a shitty mug is exactly what she wants, right now.

Her hair is still in what was left of her updo, a rat's nest of pulled weaves and wisps of hair fallen loose. Without thinking, her free hand goes to her hair, feeling around at the mess and shoving things back into place where she can.

"Bit late for coffee, hmm?"

It's a testament to how out of sorts she is that she jumps at the sudden voice.

The hand nestled in her hair yanks painfully, but the more annoying result is that the mug slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor.

Hiwa stares down at the mess, unable to muster up any kind of reaction.

Rei pads over and whines. She keeps out of the kitchen, though, because with the scattered bits of glass there's not any way she'd be able to wade through without getting a piece or two stuck in her paw pads.

Kakashi pops up beside Rei and takes in the sight with an impassive eye, the book hanging at his side.

"This feels apt," Hiwa hears herself say as her hand drops down and dangles at her side.

And while her coffee brews on in the background, Hiwa grabs the garbage bin from under her sink and starts to pick up the shards, on her hands and knees, putting them in one by one.

She wonders what's going to happen, with her and Genma.

Where do they go from here?

Her cards are down. But his are tight to his chest, and they can't move forward until he either folds and steps away from the table or lays his flat for her to see. At least, she won't _let _them move forward until he does.

Kakashi's gaze burns at the nape of her neck as she drops another chunk of porcelain into the bin.

Which isn't entirely his fault at this point. If she let him a couple of days ago, they would have their resolution. She's just pretty sure he was about to walk away without waiting for the dealer to put down the river card and that's not what she wants, either. He might have been content to let the game go unfinished, and in a lot of cases, Hiwa might be inclined to do the same, but it would have haunted her if they didn't see it through.

She wonders if it would have haunted him, too. And it makes her feel petty that she hopes it would have.

Is she expecting too much?

Something hot bites into her finger and Hiwa jerks her hand back, hissing out a breath between her teeth. She looks down at her finger. A bead of blood pokes through the pad of her index finger, bright red against her porcelain skin.

And then, without a word, Kakashi meanders through the glass sea to squat in front of her. With one hand he grabs hold of her wrist and inspects the superficial cut. The hold is firm but careful, enough that he can pull her hand closer to him but not so tight that she couldn't easily pull her hand back, despite their astronomical difference in physical strength. Then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grey handkerchief that he deftly ties around the finger in a makeshift bandage.

It's quick, efficient, but painfully gentle.

The kind of gentle that comes from having destructive hands. A gentle wrought from squeezing something important too tight by accident and breaking it, and now being unable to shake the awareness that death follows your touch like gold in the wake of King Midas.

Except that for Hiwa all his touch does is leave tingles and firecracker sparks along her skin.

Her heart thumps heavy in her chest.

She wonders how somebody with such a wide streak of assholery can hold this quiet kindness in him, and whether thinking about them as a leaf and bark instead of a tree is the right perspective to view the man through.

She knew this was coming, she'd sensed it since she'd gotten back to the village, but now least of all she's equipped to deal with this. But she doesn't know how long she can shove it back—as she's seen with the whole Genma situation, her heart isn't feeling particularly obedient these days, and she feels like she's gotten herself stuck in a losing war with forces coming at her from two fronts instead of one.

Kakashi rests his elbows on his knees and lets his hands hang loose. "So," he says. "You planning on filling Genma in on what's going on with the Nara, or are you going to let him rot in ignorance forever?"

She sits back, her legs tucked under her. She brushes a couple of stray hairs behind her ear with her good hand.

With no immediate path for retreat open to her, Hiwa resigns herself to this. The energy to fight anymore long dried up. She's strategized. She's sent out her troops. Now? She sits back and lets things play out on their own—her injured hand is too weak to grasp the figures on the war table, much less move them about.

"Jiraiya?" she asks.

Kakashi smiles that uncomfortable plastic smile of his and says nothing.

She takes that as 'yes'.

"Are you asking me about this for gossip material?"

"Mah, merely looking to satisfy my own curiosity."

Hiwa nods. "I'm not planning on telling him."

"Oh?"

"Why bother?" she asks. "What can he gain from knowing?"

"He should know about the goings on of his own marriage."

"To do what?"

Kakashi tilts his head, making no move to answer.

"He can't do anything but feel bad about what happened," she says. "And I'm fairly confident that he will if he finds out. Feel bad, I mean. So what's the point?"

"You'd be upset if roles were reversed and he kept this from you."

"Yeah, I would. And if he ever finds out, he'd be in his right to get upset, too." She tosses another chunk of the mug into the bin. "If things get worse, I'll tell him. But right now, when there's no actual issue yet? I'd rather take the chance of keeping his nose entirely out of this. He shouldn't have to worry about this unless it's unavoidable."

For a minute or so, the only sound is the clink of porcelain against porcelain as she keeps going, Kakashi watching on from his spot a few feet away.

Hiwa sighs.

More to herself than him, she says, "I don't hate him. I don't think I'll ever be able to hate him because even after everything that's happened since we got back, I know that if I went to him with this mess and asked for help, he'd drop everything in a heartbeat. Just like he did for me when I was a complete stranger to him. And I can't repay that kindness by throwing stones."

He isn't trying to hurt her; what he's done since they've been back has left her hurt and confused. Intent hasn't followed execution, she doesn't think.

She sees collateral damage in her pain, not a directed attack.

Hiwa presses the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Every time she tries to wrap her head around things—his actions, her own feelings—her mind feeds her a different take on things, another shitty abstraction, each more difficult to parse than the last.

"You missed a piece."

She moves her hands and looks to where Kakashi's pointing. She puts it in the bin, along with all the others, but when she glances back to where Kakashi was she finds he's gone, disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Rei pads over and curls herself around Hiwa like a stinky, oversized blanket, her head rested in Hiwa's lap. Hiwa sighs and runs her fingers through Rei's fur.

"Why can't people be as easy as dogs?" she mutters.

Rei huffs.

"Yeah," she says. "Too good to be allowed."

* * *

She gets one day of peace.

One day where nobody knocks on her door or barges in through her balcony, she has nothing to do, a full fridge to sustain her, her partner curled up around her like a safety blanket, and a fresh stack of books purchased for herself the night before after Kakashi left in an attempt to maintain her sanity. She reads and for a while, she isn't thinking about how many days left between now and the tenth, what Hiruzen might have said to Jiraiya and Shikaku, what kind of verdict Genma is going to lay down on her, and the fact that as the days go on, the fact that she's got a growing urge to unravel the mystery of Kakashi, the most gentle asshole she's ever met.

One day where she lives in the world of her books and not her own.

The peace is nice while it lasts.

She knows, though, that nothing gold can stay.

Somehow, when Jiraiya breaks her streak of peace the next day by knocking on her door while she's in the middle of her first cup of coffee for the day—which she drinks at five in the evening, her whole sleep schedule off-kilter at this point—something in her gut tells her that it's got nothing to do with the Nara situation.

Rei was gone when she woke up, probably off to hunt. She hasn't been doing enough of it lately, not wanting to leave Hiwa alone for too long. So she's almost relieved that the apartment is empty, even if it feels a bit lonely, this way.

"Come in," she says, setting down her mug.

Jiraiya's face is grim as he lets himself in and shucks his shoes by the door.

For propensity's sake, she asks, "Nara?"

"No," Jiraiya says. "Lord Third told us both to fuck off because Kusa hasn't backed away from our borders and negotiations aren't going as well as they should."

Hiwa closes her eyes. "You're sending me back out."

"I don't have a choice."

A short, tight breath leaves her because the tenth is less than a week away and it was hard enough being out of the village, last year, and the thought of being away again this year, unable to visit her dad on the anniversary for the second year in a row, more years than not, has her throat tight.

She doesn't know what's going on on her face that gets him, but she sees how Jiraiya's expression falters like she'd slapped him.

"There's nobody else?" she asks, her voice hollow.

Jiraiya stares at her, his jaw working. Carefully, he says, "The only other agent I have that Lord Hokage approved of for this mission is currently in Wind Country."

And the unsaid 'instead of you' dries up any other token protest she might have tried for.

"When do I leave?"

"Tonight, if possible."

She nods.

He pulls out a scroll from his jacket and hands it to her. "We're sending you into a village right near Kusa—Yomitan."

"Yomitan," she says. She racks her brain for what she remembers about the place. "Largest artisan and farming village in Grass Country, a stone's throw from Kusa itself." A hotspot for weapon making, vital crop farming, and cloth production. It's like the Elemental Nations version of the crafting row most video games have. "You want a gauge of what their current output is looking like?

"Got it in one."

"Things are that bad," she says, a statement and not a question.

"We'll be declaring war in the next couple of weeks if things don't improve."

"And they're not responding to our aggression?"

Jiraiya scowls. "We haven't been aggressive enough to warrant a response, far as I'm aware," he mutters. But he shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. All you need to know is that tensions are going to be high and so is the risk, with this mission—"

"I know."

He holds up a hand. "But the usual rule still stands. Ninja who abandon their duty are cowards, but dead spies tell no secrets. You hear me?" he says. "No stupid shit."

"Yeah. Yeah, I hear you."

"Good."

He turns and heads back towards the door.

He hesitates, though, before he leaves, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "I am sorry, kid," he says. "Alright? If I had anybody else—"

"You'd send them," she says. She manages a weak smile for him. "I know."

And with that settled he heads off, leaving Hiwa to her thoughts and an empty apartment.

.

.

She walks out of the gates alone after the sun's set, that night. She doesn't call Rei to her side until she's already taken her first steps past the gate.

Like a ghost, she slips away. She says no goodbyes.

It's been like this for years—leaving alone, the village none the wiser of her absence as it's at her back. But this is the first time she can remember that it's felt lonely.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

_The realization of ignorance_

_is the first act of knowing._

* * *

"Shiranui Genma, right?"

Genma squints. "That's right," he says. He's leant up against the doorframe, his left hand still holding onto the front door of his apartment. "Who're you?"

It's an unfamiliar man, an Inuzuka with a beagle ninken sat dutifully at his heels. Genma can't imagine an Inuzuka sniffing at his door can mean anything good.

Might be an unfair assumption, Genma can acknowledge that.

Hiwa hasn't had any issues with the Inuzuka since they exiled her, as far as he's aware—not that they've had a proper conversation since they got back to the village. And thinking about it, he's not sure that she would have told him, at this point.

It puts his paranoia all the way up to high alert.

"Inuzuka Taru," he says. "An old friend of Hiwa's father."

Genma shifts the senbon around from one side of his mouth to the other, not bothering to hide his skepticism. He carries it through his posture with a languid sort of air. "That so?"

Taru frowns. "Yes. Look, I just—do you know how long Hiwa's going to be gone on her mission?"

Now, it's Genma who frowns. "Mission?"

"You didn't know?"

"No."

"I see. Well, if you find out when she's going to be back, can you send word my way?"

"Why are you asking?"

And there's a cold sort of contempt that leaks onto the older man's face. "If Hiwa hasn't let on, then it's not my place to tell you. Not my business to throw around."

"Then you won't get anything out of me. Your clan has done enough to her—show me proof and I'll promise to pass on the information."

The expression fades from Taru's face, replaced by something closer to grudging respect, though Genma would hesitate to call the expression anything close to kind. Taru reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wallet.

He holds it out, and the wallet falls open.

There's a photograph in the little window on one side of the wallet. It's grainy and black and white, with age marks and creases in it. There's a man that Genma assumes is Taru, a solid twenty years younger than he is now. He's got his hand on the shoulder of another man who's holding a baby. Instantly, Genma knows where he's seen the other man—just a few days ago, in another photograph on Hiwa's bookshelf.

That must make the baby in his arms a tiny, swaddled Hiwa.

"That good enough?"

Genma's shoulders ease. "Yeah, sorry."

Taru slips the wallet back into his jacket, his eyes never leaving Genma's face. "Don't be," he says. "You're right to be suspicious of any Inuzuka asking after her." His gaze sharpens. "Good to know you're doing something right, at least."

And his shoulders stiffen right back up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she caught me up to speed on what exactly is going on between the two of you," he says dryly, "and I know that you've made a mess of things, even if she hasn't exactly made the best choices at this point, either. But I'm glad that that's not sending you running for the hills."

"I promised her I wasn't going to leave her high and dry, and I don't plan on breaking that promise anytime soon," he says, careful to keep his voice level. "But I'm not sure that's any of your business, either way."

Taru shakes his head. He takes a step back from the door, shoving one of his hands into his pockets. "She made it my business. And I just wanna throw this at you, kid: you lose every fight you refuse to show up to."

Rather than answer, Genma goes to close the door. This conversation isn't one he needs right now.

Taru sticks his foot in before it can shut. "For what it's worth? I don't know why, exactly, you're stepping back from her. But if it's even remotely related to some twisted 'do it for her' bullshit, you're not doing her any kindness by making her choice for her."

Genma's hand falls away. He stares at Taru, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

A small, tight smile worms its way onto Taru's face. His gaze goes distant, lost somewhere over Genma's shoulder.

"I lost my wife Kimi when I was twenty," he says. "We were together for a year. Then she was killed, one of the first casualties of the Second War. I was on the mission with her, watched her go. And let me tell you, that… you don't get over that." He clears his throat. "Thought that would be the end of it. Didn't want to hurt like that, ever again. But you know what happened?"

Taru laughs. "One day, a few years later, I met someone. A fantastic woman named Tsubaki. Kind, gentle, caring. She was soft where I was sharp. And we had great chemistry. There was nobody else in the room, when I was with her, the way we clicked. But… I thought I'd—I dunno. Ruin her, or something stupid. 'Cause I was damaged goods and she wasn't. So, I didn't say anything to her. Watched as she went about her life from ten feet back for _years_. And one day, I get word that she's in the hospital, bleeding out, and she wants to see me."

Genma bites down on the senbon in his mouth so hard that he swears he hears his teeth crack.

"She got sliced open, right along the side. Nasty gash. Medics were doing all they could, but they weren't sure she'd pull through. They brought me in, 'cause she said that she just wanted to see my face, one last time, before she went." The beagle at his side nudges his hand, and Taru throws a smile down at the ninken. He stoops down and runs his hand along the dog's head, from top to tail, and sighs. "And I'd never felt like a bigger jackass in my entire life. There I was, thinking it'd somehow be easier for both of us, if I didn't try and get too close. But it didn't hurt any less to see her like that—honestly, hurt more. Because I realized that I'd screwed both us over, thinking I was doing the right thing."

Quietly, Genma asks, "And what happened?"

The grin that lights up Taru's face makes him look ten years younger. "She lived. Had to retire, but she lived. And the first thing I did when I saw her was propose." Taru pulls a chain out from under his shirt where two wedding rings hang. He loops his thumb through the silver one and shows it to Genma. "We celebrated our twelfth anniversary a month and a bit ago."

He gets back on his feet and brushes the dirt off his pants. He pins Genma with a look that makes him feel transparent, and Genma resists the urge to close the door here and now.

"Just think about that, yeah?" Taru says. "I got lucky. I got the chance to make things right. Not everybody gets that."

He stands there, staring at Genma.

"Yeah," Genma finally says. "Yeah."

"Good. Send word when you find out how long she's gonna be gone, remember?"

"I will."

And Taru walks off down the hall and Genma stares at the empty hallway, feeling a bit like he's been smacked upside the head.

"Huh," he murmurs to himself. "Guess I fucked up, didn't I?"

He's in the same clothes he slept in, but in a daze, Genma slips his feet into his sandals and grabs his house keys off of the table by the door. The door falls shut behind him with a quiet click and he locks it, slipping his keys into his pockets as he heads down the hall, too.

Genma might not know how to find out how long Hiwa's going to be gone, but he knows where he can start.

.

.

As he expects, Genma finds Kakashi situated at the memorial stone.

Kakashi stiffens the second Genma breaks out of the trees and into the clearing. Genma half expects him to flee, but he doesn't move a muscle.

Rather than stand back and wait for Kakashi to finish with whatever he's doing, Genma approaches the stone himself. There are thousands upon thousands of names carved into the stone, lined up on either side of it. He keeps his eye out for one. And it takes him a bit, but he finds it, in the first third of the names.

Inuzuka Kimiko.

Genma bows his head, eyes closed.

When he straightens and opens them again, he sees Kakashi watching him, statuesque in posture.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to ask you something," Genma says.

Kakashi inclines his head.

"Any chance you know anything about the mission Hiwa was sent on?"

"Didn't know she was sent for one."

"Neither did I, 'til a friend of hers came to me looking for her. Wanted to know how long she's going to be gone for."

Something weird shifts in the air between them and Genma wishes he could put his finger on what it is, exactly, but he can't. It feels charged, almost. Sharper. And Genma knows that he's missing something.

"Can you find out?" Genma asks.

Kakashi gives him a vaguely insulted look that has the word 'duh' painted all over it, and in a flash, he's gone.

Genma turns his gaze back to the stone.

_Inuzuka Kimiko._

Further down, he sees _Hamada Hiro_, and then another handful of names later _Ogawa Shinji_. There's a mess of male Inuzuka names that follow afterward—he wonders which of them is Hiwa's father.

And then as if magnetized, his gaze gets pulled down to _Namikaze Minato_.

Genma shakes his head.

Tomorrow, he'll come back with flowers. For now, though, he heads back home, in no rush to get there as his mind runs laps around everything Taru dropped into his lap.

.

.

"Seriously? This is twice in less than a week—what about having this office hidden in the pits of T&I makes you think 'yeah, I'm gonna go and sneak into _that_ place' instead of waiting for me to be out and about in the village to talk to me?"

Kakashi stares blankly at Jiraiya.

Jiraiya rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. You want to know where the hell Hiwa is?"

Another look.

"Kami. Look, she's in Grass Country, alright?"

"Alone?" Kakashi asks, his voice as sharp as a diamond's edge. "With tensions this high?"

And with the tenth around the corner?

She won't be at her best. He's seen first hand that the anniversary interferes with her ability to make it through her missions and with stakes this high, he can't see how Jiraiya thought sending her out _alone _was a bright idea.

"Yes, alone, because it's both too dangerous and too suspicious to send her in with a partner right now. Getting good enough paperwork to send one person through the border was a pain in the ass enough," Jiraiya says. When Kakashi opens his mouth, Jiraiya silences him with a harsh look. "_Or _backup. I sent you last time because it was safe to do so. It's not, this time. You go in there to try and give her support and you're more likely to draw attention to her."

"Where?"

"Yomitan."

If Kakashi goes at full speed, he can be there in a day. Maybe less.

Jiraiya mutters a curse and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You want me to send you anyways, don't you?"

"Nobody should be alone behind enemy lines with a war around the corner."

"Yeah," Jiraiya drawls, "that's all it is."

Jiraiya pushes his chair back from his desk and wanders over to the board on the wall. There's a map of the Elemental Nations hung up, pins stuck into it all over the place. There's a line of red pins along the border between Fire Country and Grass Country, along with a dotted line of blue parallel to it that Kakashi knows represents the outposts Konoha's set up over the last few weeks since tensions started to grow with Kusa. There's only one pin inside Grass Country—a green one with the number fifteen sloppily written on it.

Hiwa's the only Konoha agent in the whole of Grass Country, right now. If _anything _goes wrong she's going to be a sitting duck. And by the sounds of it, Jiraiya had her enter Grass Country under a civilian disguise—odds are good that she doesn't even have Rei with her. Too dangerous to try and get such a massive ninken through the border with Kusa hovering around it like a bunch of guard dogs themselves.

Out of the blue, Jiraiya laughs.

Kakashi stiffens.

"You know what?" Jiraiya says. "Fuck it. I know exactly what you can do."

Jiraiya goes back over to his desk and picks up one of his brushes. Flipping it over so he's holding it from the brush end, Jiraiya points with the handle. He drags it along the border and knocks all the red pins loose, then curves it up to land on where the green pin is.

He turns back to Kakashi and jabs the air with the brush handle, aimed at Kakashi. "You go in there and you carve a fucking path. Take out any and all Kusa nin you meet at the border, hunt them down like the rats they are on the way up to Yomitan. If Lord Third wants a show of force to scare them off, might as well sick our Copy-Nin on them." A twisted, ugly smile breaks out on Jiraiya's face. "You make them piss themselves, you hear me? Put them down. Make them run for the hills with their tails tucked between their legs. And if all goes well, by the time you get to Hiwa you can just extract her because Kusa won't want anything to do with us and we won't need the information she was sent for, anymore."

That's something Kakashi can do.

"When do I leave?"

"I'll get back to you. I'll go talk to Lord Third right now—tempting as it is, I can't make that call on my own. But it could be as soon as tonight."

Kakashi nods, already feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins.

"Good. Go pack. I'll send an agent for you when I get the answer."

"Yes, sir."

.

.

Hiruzen leans back in his seat, his pipe stuck in the side of his mouth. He pulls it out and exhales a puff of smoke. "You think that wise?"

"I do. Minato's reputation as a one-man army single-handedly ended the war. Seeing his student out there, tearing apart squad after squad on his own? They'll be reminded of it. Let them make that association. If Kakashi can dismantle their main line of defense on his _own_, that'll kick them off the fence."

Hiruzen turns his eye to Shikaku who shrugs. "It's plausible," Shikaku says. "The only question is whether or not Hatake actually _can _decimate that many on his own. There's at least six or seven squads lined up along that part of the border, right now. Can he take out thirty-some-odd chunin and jonin on his own in quick succession?"

Jiraiya thinks of the fire in Kakashi's eyes.

It was a white-hot scorch, a heat Jiraiya knows comes out when there's a comrade's life on the line. Especially a comrade like this.

"With what's at stake?" Jiraiya says. "I think he'll manage."

Hiruzen nods. "Very well. If he's willing and confident he can do it, I give you permission to send him out."

"Thank you, Lord Hokage."

.

.

"Should only be a few days," Kakashi says.

Genma leans back into the couch, eyes narrowed.

He can't say that he knows Kakashi as well as he knows somebody like Raidou, especially with that damn mask in the way, but Genma has been around him long enough that he has what he considers to be a 'good enough' grasp on Kakashi and his mannerisms.

And he doesn't think Kakashi's lying. He thinks Kakashi is skimming the details. Because Kakashi isn't carrying himself casually—he's carrying himself the way he always does right before they leave on a mission, a hair too wound up to ever be considered relaxed. A close enough imitation of casual that it skates past most people's radars unless they've seen both and taken the time to compare them.

"What's the mission?" Genma asks.

Kakashi smiles, and that just cements Genma's suspicions. "She's out gathering information."

"Wow. I never would have guessed that she, as an infiltration specialist, would be sent out on a mission to get information."

"Definitely a surprise."

Genma pinches the bridge of his nose. "Kakashi, what the hell is going on?"

And Kakashi flaps a hand at him, headed for the door. "Oh, nothing. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over."

"Is she alright?"

Kakashi stops. He looks over his shoulder at Genma, his face impossible to read. "She will be," he says.

They're three words that hit Genma in the gut.

But he doesn't think there's anything he can do at this point. She's already out there, and if he were to put money down, he'd bet that Kakashi's on his way over to where she is.

He has to sit and wait until she's back, and hopefully by that point he'll have his thoughts sorted well enough that he'll be ready for her. He thinks he knows what he wants to do—or, rather, what he doesn't want to happen.

No matter what he does, he can't get Taru's warning out of his head. Their situations aren't the same, but they're close enough that Genma would be an idiot not to give what Taru said serious consideration.

"_I got the chance to make things right. Not everybody gets that._"

If he backs away from Hiwa now, he's pretty sure he's going to spend the rest of his life running. Running from everything that tries to get too close, everything that hurts, everything he thinks he can't do. And from a Konoha ninja? That's a shameful way to live.

The fear is still there. He's terrified of how bad it'll hurt if he loses her. But that's exactly what will happen if he steps back, and he knows that, has known that the whole time, really. It just seemed easier to lose her by his choice, not by the universe's. A kunai to the gut that he could prepare himself for instead of one that sneaks through his defenses under the cover of night and takes him by surprise.

But he can't imagine how badly the regret would scorch him if he had to wonder for the rest of his life what this could of been if he'd taken the leap. How the yearning for a second chance would follow him like a shadow, having thrown his first one away because he couldn't get his head out of his ass.

He'll wait for her. And if she'll still have him, he'll work things out with her.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

_People are far more likely to_

_lie to you than your gut._

* * *

From the second she walks through the massive gates of Yomitan, Hiwa knows that the mission is going to go wonky.

She gets through the border fine. A blonde wig, green contacts, and her usual prosthetics allow her to feasibly claim to be a Wind Country native. She completes it with a veil, bright red and gold draped robe, and sturdy but fashionable traveling sandals. Perfect to sell her as a traveling singer from a comfortable background in Wind Country, snaking her way through the Elemental Nations on the generosity of others and some money from her parents. The border guards scrutinize her a bit, has her perform for them, and pulls out some of the reference letters she always keeps prepped for this cover, checks her bag thoroughly, and sends her on through once they are satisfied.

It takes longer than she would have liked and leaves her to travel most of the way to Yomitan in the dark, using her enhanced sight to lead her through. But she gets there, the gates open for her with the break of dawn.

And twelve hours later as the sun drops and she watches the gates close for the evening from her spot on the street, performing for spare ryo, she thinks she'll be back out them first thing in the morning because her entire day has been one filled with short answers, furtive glances, and unease. The people of Konoha might not have known there was a war on its way, but the people of Yomitan sure do, and they've given her nothing but a bad feeling in her gut.

Guards shoo her away when she lingers too close to the warehouses with kunai and senbon and body armor spilling out of their seams. The folks selling crops by the dozen snap at her when, later that afternoon, she asks too many questions about the burst of business as of late. And when Hiwa inquires with a local seamstress about having some clothes made for her ninja cousin, and wow, there sure is a long waitlist, has she been doing additional special orders lately? Well. Hiwa's never been kicked out of a store so fast in her life.

The people are busy. The entire village is alight with activity, and at any given time, there's a dozen or so Kusa nin patrolling the place.

The mission statement wanted her to get numbers and stats, as specific as she could get, but there's no way she's going to be able to get that information without blowing her cover wide open, and that's a death sentence. It would be, as Jiraiya put it, 'stupid shit'.

So after she's sung her way through a few hours, she takes what ryo she has in her hat and heads off to the village's bookstore.

She grabs something stupid and smutty for Kakashi, one of the more promising female-led books for Genma, and then a few random books for herself. Might as well get something out of the mission. And while her issues with Genma are nowhere near dealt with, she remembers how interested he had been in all the unique authors she had on her shelf and has a book for him in her basket before she's even thought twice about it.

The books cost her what money she busked and a bit extra, but once she's gotten them bagged up she heads off to her hotel room, intent on getting some sleep for the night.

.

.

Kakashi's back at the memorial stone when Jiraiya's agent hands him the mission scroll. He takes it with a nod, and the agent retreats into the shadows.

He has his pack ready at the door of his apartment, already. All he has to do is grab it and go.

Kakashi raises his hand to the stone.

His fingers ghost over Minato's name, the grooves and sharp edges as familiar to him as the back of his hand. And then his hand trails downwards to another familiar name, one he's been tracing for the last couple of years, now.

_Inuzuka Noboru._

He knows the other names on there that matter to her, _Hamada Hiro _and _Ogawa Shinji_.

At the thought of them, his gaze strays to Rin's and Obito's.

Then he thinks of the one ghost that haunts Hiwa whose name isn't on the stone: Tanji Hitomi. Hiwa said she never knew what happened—come the end of the war, her sensei had dropped off the face of the earth.

Kakashi's never told her that Tanji Hitomi is now Hino Hitomi, a farmer's wife in some backwater Fire Country village. As far as any of her new neighbors are concerned, Hitomi was a traveling dancer who settled down after falling in love with her current husband. None of them will ever know the blood on her hands or the skeletons that fill her closet.

It's the best-case scenario that any retired Konoha ninja can hope for when their retirement is forced due to their questionable ability to function in the field. Honorable? Hardly. But it's _safe_ and easy.

Sometimes (more times than he'll ever dare admit to himself, much less say aloud) Kakashi wonders if Hiwa even remembers that night properly. If she remembers pouring her heart out to him while blackout drunk, narrating her life story, not in a blubbering mess of snot and sake-fueled sobs like he'd expect, but in a soft, clinical tone, like being drunk gave her enough distance to tell her life story as if sharing a folk tale with him.

He never forgot.

Boy, did he want to. That feeling it gave him? A split second where he let himself think that this girl was the first person he'd ever met who got it, who knew the crushing ache of having your life swept out from under you by grief the same way a running river grinds away at the mountainside until it creates a gorge? Not what he needed in his life.

The only positive was that it got him into an Icha Icha book. The only one of Jiraiya's books that Kakashi outright refused to purchase or read when an early copy was sent to him.

So like with everything else in his life, Kakashi bottled that night up and threw it into the back of his mind, only to be pulled out when it could be useful.

He thinks somebody might have smashed the bottle, though, because it's been leaking out into his thoughts again.

(_His fault_.

_She's on the ground, covered in blood that might very well have been her own because he failed to check in with her. If he'd done it earlier, this wouldn't have happened._

_It's his fault._

_With as light a hand as he can, he wipes the blood off her face._

_Another teammate almost dead at his feet._

_He bottles it up, admonishes Genma for feeling exactly what he does like the hypocrite he's always known he is, and carries her back to her bed, refusing to let her out of his arms for a second._

_He keeps an eye on her once they're back, makes sure she's alright._

_He's there so much he starts to keep his own stash of tea in the cupboards hidden with the rest of the tea he knows Hiwa won't ever rifle through. It's creepy and he knows that, but what nobody else knows won't bother them._

_He tells himself that if he leaves it to rot, it can't do him any harm._

_He doesn't care. He can't._

_Why care about something he'll never be able to have? And, frankly, something that he doesn't want?_

_Because he doesn't want a relationship. The last thing he needs is one more corpse in the parade that marches in his shadow, and he'd be a lousy partner._

_Nobody else deserves to be dragged into the festival of carnage that lives in his head and makes up his past, least of all somebody who's seen enough of it on their own, who is so good, so kind, so everything that he's never been and never will be._

_How somebody so similar to him can be so different is beyond him. How somebody whose gruesome backstory is bloodied the same was as his—dead parents and teammates, stolen by war and ravaged by the Kyuubi when fate decided it hadn't taken enough yet—can smile, laugh, and joke, all without coming off as a facsimile of a human being. How she can have nothing left to give, anymore, and finds a way to do it anyways._

_So, he steps back. He plays go-between with Genma and Hiwa. At least that way, he's getting some entertainment out of things, and maybe he'll get to see her happy at the end of it because unlike him, she deserves it. And if he doesn't, he can pat himself on the back for having done his good deed of the day and get a show in the process._

_That's all._

_He's a coward, through and through, and he's fine with that._

_He might be willing to step up for the sake of the village, but in his everyday life, it's better to be a coward in safety than a brave soul on the frontlines._)

He'll have to fix that.

Once he's slaughtered the whole of Kusa's scrabbled together border guard and gotten Hiwa back into the village, he will. He'll watch Hiwa and Genma get together, like all the good books end with, and he'll find a new jar for himself.

* * *

That morning when Hiwa wakes up, already decided on getting out of dodge before this can blow up in her face, she has a complicated decision to make.

Because she's in a complicated situation.

With the cover she used to get through the border, it'll look suspicious if she tries to cross back over this early. No musician stays in one country for two days and then leaves again. They might move villages if money's bad. But they wouldn't just jump ship to that extreme. Which knocks out that option.

And she doesn't plan on trying to sneak through their guard, either. That's yet another idea to throw into the 'stupid shit' pile.

Her best bet is going to be sneaking through Grass Country's border with Rain Country and then looping back around to pick up Rei on her way to Konoha. That's the safest option. Grass Country and Rain Country are on civil terms, so she doubts there's going to be much going on there—she won't try and go through the official paths because this cover doesn't have the paperwork to support that, but she should be able to get through the defenses and crawl her way southeast to Rain Country's border with Fire Country.

The issue comes in getting out of Yomitan itself—rather, which option is going to yield the safer result.

She can go out the same way she came in: the main gate. She can use the previously mentioned excuse that she's not making any money, and decided to move on. But if she's ruffled feathers like she thinks she has, they'll have her flagged and be watching for her and the second she tries to leave they can pounce on her. Kusa nin guard the gates, even if civilians are the ones who man the booths. She wouldn't stand a chance.

That said, her other option is to hop the gates and hope she can avoid the perimeter guards. This gives her a chance to get a head start. If they suspect her and have been keeping an eye for her, the second they realize she disappeared without a trace their suspicions will be confirmed. And if they're keeping a _really _close eye on her, they'll have somebody trailing her, and then she'll be dead in the water the second they see her take her first steps up the wall.

She needs more information.

Despite waking up with an itch to get out immediately, Hiwa goes for a walk around the village. She gets herself some breakfast. Coffee and a Kusa-poptart. A Kusatart. A sweet thing that she can't really enjoy because she's too focused on being alert enough to watch for a tail without seeming like it.

And she doesn't hear, see, or smell anything funny. There aren't any eyes following her beyond what can be expected.

Wall hop it is, then.

She's grateful that her cover outfit happens to be as free-flowing as it is—she'll have no problem climbing in it, running in it, and if need be, fighting in it. Hopefully, she won't need to. But she will be doing the other two, that much is sure.

Hiwa heads back to her hotel room in as much of a rush as she can without looking out of place and collects her stuff. Given that the window faces another building and not the street, Hiwa takes the risk and goes out the window rather than loop back out through the main lobby with her traveling bag.

Ideally, the staff won't notice a thing. Not for four or five hours when they come in to clean her room. Or even better, the next day.

Getting out this way is easy. She opens the window, walks a couple of steps down the wall, then drops down the rest of the way. Not a soul witnesses it. So, she hefts her bag and makes off towards the nearest section of the village walls.

The mission might not have gone how she wanted but she got books out of it and confirmation of what Jiraiya suspected, at least. And now she'll be back in Konoha by the tenth if she moves fast. She just has to hope that everything else goes according to plan.

.

.

As Kakashi suspected, he finds Rei pacing on Konoha's side of the border like a trapped animal.

He and his pack track her down without any trouble. She meets them partway and tackles Kakashi the second he's within distance, licking his face and sticking her nose in the pocket of his vest where he keeps his treats. He indulges her for a couple of minutes, rubbing her head and letting her pin him to the dirt as the rest of his pack hangs back.

But they're on a tight schedule.

He sits up and nudges her away from him, and Rei complies easily. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth as she sits back, watching him.

Kakashi rests his hand on her head and says, "We're going to extract Hiwa."

And those words are all it takes for Rei to shift from an oversized house dog to likely three-hundred some odd pound wolf with a jaw powerful enough to snap bones like a child might a twig.

She rises to her full height. She takes a couple of steps back, raises her head, and howls into the otherwise silent afternoon air.

When she's done, she falls into step with his pack, separate from their hierarchy but deferent to Kakashi all the same. He can see it in her eyes—the sharp, feral determination. Hiwa has her qualms about killing. Rei, however, doesn't share them. Especially not when it comes to keeping her partner safe.

"Alright. Let's get started."

.

.

Things do not go according to plan.

Hiwa realizes this in the same second she realizes that at least a couple of the perimeter guards must be sensors, or something, when they immediately break from their vigil to follow her as she cuts her path northwest, up and around the path she'd projected they'd take based on their previous trajectories.

She knows how to hide her trail—she can dampen her scent, use a light enough touch as she tree hops not to disrupt the bark on landing, all the tricks of the trade. But she's never been able to pull in her chakra to help disguise her signature.

Making a split-second decision, Hiwa stops on the next tree she hops too, crouched on the branch. She adds more chakra to her ears than was already there and closes her eyes. Amidst the ambient sounds of the forest, the whistle of wind through branches and chitter of squirrels scurrying around the dirt, a chirp of birds here and the gentle grunt of a deer there, she hears it.

_Thump. Thump. Thump_.

Feet against branches, about three kilometers back. Two sets of it. But when she listens more, she hears a softer echo to them and quells the string of curses that threatens to spill out. It was harder to hear on the move, with her own footfalls interfering and half her focus on not losing her balance, but now that she's stopped there's more—another two people, by the sounds of it, five or six kilometers off and gaining.

Hiwa pushes off her spot with vigor, putting on a burst of speed to make up for the ten or so seconds wasted.

From the rapid pace of their feet hitting the branches, and based on general guesstimations of ninja speed, she thinks they're moving at forty kilometers an hour, if not faster. She kicks up her pace. Fighting might not be her strong suit, but she's still an Inuzuka—speed and stamina are two things she has in spades.

All she has to do is hope that they can't keep up or lose interest before she tires, or she's going to be in for the world's deadliest game of hide-and-seek.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

_You can't learn to get back up_

_if you've never been knocked down._

* * *

Hiwa lets out a breath, slow and controlled, and listens as the two Kusa nin get closer and closer to her position, their footfalls pounding amidst the patter of rain against the forest.

She readjusts on the branch, her back pressed to the trunk and her feet bracing herself, arms held in to make herself as small as possible under the cover of the foliage. The bark digs into her skin through the thin robe she has on and drops of rain slip down the leaves and drip onto her head like beads of ice. It's not comfortable, but it helps ground her through the fog of fatigue clouding her mind.

They're in the middle of northern Rain Country. It's further than Hiwa thought she would get once she realized that she had a problem on her hands; the Kusa nin are all sprinters and she's a marathon runner.

Two hours out of Yomitan it became clear that they would keep pushing the pace beyond what Hiwa could ever hope to maintain. She's been pushing herself to their speed to stay ahead and it's wearing on her, faster than she'd like to admit. She might make it to the border, at this rate. Maybe. With some luck and all of the chakra she has in her. But she'll be leaving herself without any fuel to fight if they do end up chasing her down, and it'd be four against one. Even if they were at the end of their resources, too, they'll overwhelm her.

As of right now, she plans to dip south and loop around to the eastern side of Amegakure, bringing her somewhere in the middle of the border between Rain and Fire Country when she's done. She's got another five hours before that point.

She won't make it.

So, she has to slow them down and give herself some space, and hopefully even the odds out a bit. The other group is a solid ten kilometers behind. Hiwa is hoping that once if she takes two down, the others will stop and try to help. Or at the very least, investigate. And even if they don't? Well. She's about to make a mess that should slow them down, regardless.

"... which… further south? To… roger."

Hiwa winces and cuts the chakra to her ears—the migraine pounding against her skull is no joke, at this point. She's a bit surprised her ears aren't bleeding from overuse.

She assumed, initially, that both the groups of Kusa nin had sensors with them. That was until she started getting snippets of their one-sided conversations accompanying the sounds of them carving out their path through the forest, and realized that that wasn't quite the case.

The slower of the two groups has at least once sensor and some other form of a tracker, she's fairly certain of that. The other group has none—they're relying on the back group to relay her position through radio and are following her based on that. And that gave Hiwa an idea.

Hiwa leans to the side, just enough to put the cave behind her into her line of sight. The explosive tag pinned to the top of the cave near its mouth (the last in a line of them) isn't visible to her. And hopefully, it won't be for her target.

Neither will the handful scattered in a twenty-foot radius around the cave, hidden by a few inches of dirt.

The cave digs into the sheer mountain wall that rises behind it, one step in the stairway that makes up the mountain range of northern Rain Country. The entire place has been a mess of trees and rocks—the further west she goes, the more the trees thin and the rocks grow bare and numerous. She's never been to Claw, but she's heard it's almost entirely mountains with sprinkles of forestry here and there.

She takes another breath and preps herself for the discomfort—overuse, she's overused her senses, her nerves feel like they've been rubbed raw by the stimulation, there are stars if she blinks and fuzz in her ears and she feels two seconds from a bloody nose, but she can't stop—and then adds chakra to her ears again. She can hear them getting close enough to start.

She runs her fingers through the seals: ram, snake, tiger.

A clone of herself pops up in front of her.

Her clone is a mess of torn clothes, her wig long gone and her regular brown hair falling all over the place, scrapes and bruises, and fatigue. It's good to know her outside reflects her inside because that about sums up how she feels. The image shifts a bit as Hiwa imagines herself injured, limping, bleeding, even more of a disaster than she already is.

Satisfied, she sends the clone off in about the direction where the footfalls are coming from.

All Hiwa can do now is listen and wait.

Not too far, she doesn't want to send the clone too far—far enough from her position that it has time to disappear, close enough that it'll pull them in the right direction.

_This is such a stupid idea._

But if she had something else, she'd use it.

She hears the second they spot the clone—_"There, she just—"_, and _"Target spotted, pursuing"_—and sprint off after it.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_One—_

She dispels the clone, some twenty feet north of her position, headed right for the mouth of the cave.

She holds her breath and hopes that her cobbled together genjutsu cover and the foliage will keep her out of sight as the two Kusa nin dart out from the trees.

"Shit," she hears one mutter.

"I know she went this way."

A pause.

Their voices are lowered to just above a whisper, quiet enough that Hiwa can barely hear it around the buzz. She forces herself to add a bit of chakra again—once more, just once more—and closes her eyes, her lungs burning.

"Wait, I—I think I smell her," the first one says. "I don't hear anything, though. And it's dark and it sounds like the cave goes pretty deep. Can't see anything, but I can hear water dripping fairly far off." A pause. "I can smell blood coming from in the cave, and she had some visible injuries. She's probably run in there."

_Good_.

A couple of steps forward.

From the second one, she hears, _"Wait_."

The footsteps stop.

"She's been covering her tracks well the whole time. I don't buy that she's only now letting us track her," the second one says. "Yeah, she was limping, so the blood might be real, but she's been smart so far. I doubt she's enough of an idiot to let us find her like that. _If _she's there, she'll be ready for us." A scoff. "Can't believe you almost just ran in there. Any chunin should be able to spot a trap like that."

Hiwa grins to herself.

Maybe those extra explosive tags won't be wasted.

A sigh. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Let me see what the sensors say. Come in, squad three."

There's a short pause.

"Update on the target's location. She still near us?" the second one says. "Yeah? Close. Can you get me anything more exact? Hmm. No, that'll do. When you're closer and can get a better read, give us a heads up. Okay. Thanks, we'll update you."

"Sounds like she must be close to the mouth of the cave if our signatures are still stacked," the first one whispers.

"Probably waiting to ambush us. Keep your eyes up and stay alert for genjutsu. She's an infiltrator—most of them have a decent repertoire of genjutsu. At the very least, she's got something up her sleeve. And she's desperate. Cornered animals always fight the hardest. She might be injured, but she got this far, and she thinks she's going to be able to take us out if she's trying to corner us like this. Stay alert."

A feral sort of satisfaction warms her against the chill of the rain and wind. Her grin widens, so much that she feels her chapped lips lift over her canines.

Indeed, cornered animals fight the hardest. But she doubts they realize they cornered a wolf, not a puppy.

"Yes, sir."

Footsteps, from soft on the dirt to heavy as they hit the rock, echo in her ears.

She slips the messily drawn seal out from her waistband and holds it carefully in her palm to avoid smudging the somewhat fresh ink.

Hiwa cuts the chakra to her ears and the sounds of their footsteps fade from her ears, leaving the buzz. She gets herself onto the balls of her toes, her sore muscles coiled and ready to go.

With a little prayer to whatever shitty ass higher power might exist in this world and an apology to her conscience for the new weight she's about to lay down on it, Hiwa channels chakra into the seal and launches herself out of the tree.

The sound of the further off explosions in the line of seals is like a series of pops, each one growing louder as the line of twelve detonates, each one a half-second after the other. The last third of the seals that go, the extra tags that she scattered near the entrance in case one of the Kusa nin grew cautious and hung back, rock the mountain with a shuddering crack like thunder rumbling to signal an oncoming storm, and the force it gives off slams against her back.

Yet another invention of Jiraiya's—remote detonation explosive tags.

She sacrificed precious minutes for the sake of drawing all twelve. Eight in the cave, four outside, with each tag connected to the matrix seal that she could detonate it from, the timers baked into the matrix's equation. Admittedly, she got it out of Jiraiya by force when Rei stole one of his sealing notebooks during her campaign against his furniture. This is the first time she's ever used them, actually.

And she's glad Rei stole it because they probably just saved her life.

She sprints faster than she has in a long time as the mountainside comes down behind her, the rocks and debris sliding through the forest as a few thousand tons of rock crumble down like a crushed sandcastle.

But using something for the first time always has its complications. And pretty quick, Hiwa's realizes that in this case, when she guesstimated the scale of the explosion based on the tag's internal equations, she underestimated.

That becomes clear to her when one of the trees, knocked over by the flow of debris, slams into her from behind mid-air. It slaps her down like a fly being swatted. She hits the dirt _hard _and sparks dance before her eyes. Instincts have her up on her feet in less than a second and sprinting again despite the way her ribs scream in protest, the pain vicious enough that Hiwa stumbles her way through the first few steps before getting her feet properly under her.

It's a solid minute of full-tilt sprinting to get away from the last vestiges of the havoc she caused.

Safe, she takes a second to breathe, leaned into a tree for support. Her lungs burn like somebody's stuck it full of needles and she struggles to get a full breath—_broken ribs_, her mind supplies, _badly broken_.

The aftermath is reminiscent of a volcano. The rocks cleared a path through the forest, and from where she stands, a solid kilometer and a half away from where the cave used to be, she can see the crumbled remains of the mountain. With how deep the tags went and that she disrupted the foundation of the mountain, the rest seemed to tumble like a house of cards.

And there are two bodies buried in there, so deep that she doubts they'll ever be recovered. Not that she trusts Kusa will bother to try.

Hiwa bows her head and ignores how her stomach turns.

Now she just has to hope she can outrun the other two and avoid any kind of confrontation.

.

.

Hiwa's not in Yomitan.

It's a big village, and Kakashi knows that it would have taken a few hours to canvas it, even with his whole pack out in the streets hunting for her. But he knows before they even get to the gates that she isn't in there when Rei skids to a stop, her eyes boring into Kakashi's.

She yips something to Pakkun.

"She isn't in there," Pakkun says. "Rei thinks she hit a snag and dipped."

Kakashi works his jaw, frustration burning in his chest.

"Think her cover got blown?" Bull asks.

He doesn't think she'd let herself get caught like that, not with stakes this high. But he has no way of knowing what things are like inside the gates—complications can happen even with the best of the best on the job.

"Spread out," Kakashi says. "Find her trail as she was leaving."

.

.

"Looks like she was headed into Rain Country, boss."

Kakashi crouches down and rests his hand on Bisuke's head, laying the other flat in the dirt.

"She went west," Kakashi says. "Avoiding the Fire Country border."

With a short burst of his chakra, he calls back the rest of his pack to him. He's not worried about attracting attention from the Kusa nin crawling all over the place—his chakra isn't exactly high, right now, but he has soldier pills. Besides, he doubts they have anybody on hand that can pose a threat to him. Kusa has never been known for heavy-hitting ninja. They focus more on information gathering and commerce, and when it comes to their frontline force, quantity over quality.

If they want to pick a fight with him they're welcome to; their deaths aren't any skin off his back.

Pakkun lifts one of his back paws to scratch his ear with a contemplative frown. "Why didn't she cut south? That'd be faster. Way more direct route and she'd still end up in Rain to use their border."

Going straight south from Yomitan would have put her right in the middle of the border between Rain Country and Fire Country, once all was said and done. Hiwa knows this—it's obvious. So, he knows she had a reason for not doing it.

"I'm guessing she just wanted out of Grass Country as soon as possible."

"Even the footing, put 'em both in unfamiliar territory," Pakkun says. "Makes sense."

Because from what his pack has found, there are four different trails on Hiwa's heels, and that tells Kakashi everything he needs to know about how fast they have to move. She can't fight off that many, not unless they're genin which Kakashi _knows _they won't be. That'd be outright idiotic on Kusa's part, to have genin guarding such a valuable asset.

Hiwa isn't incapable in combat—he's seen her fight. He knows she can, otherwise, she would never have been promoted to special jonin, no matter how good she is at infiltration work. But taking on four ninjas at once isn't within her capabilities.

Kakashi clenches his jaw and lets the cold determination that he's familiar with fill his veins. It clears his head like a splash of ice water on his face. "We'll hit southwest. Try and make up time by cutting off some of the travel."

Pakkun tilts his head. "You sure you want to do that? We won't have no trail to follow if we do that. You're hedging your bet that we'll cross paths."

"She's going to have to go south eventually after she makes it into Rain. She's not going to go through Claw; she's going to try and cross through the Rain Country border," Kakashi says. "We'll find her trail."

Carefully, Pakkun says, "That's assuming she's made it long enough to move south. We both know there's a chance she's run into trouble—"

Kakashi stiffens. "Then we'll loop back north and retrace her steps."

Raising Pakkun from a puppy and having him as the second in command of his pack means that Kakashi is familiar with every single mannerism Pakkun has. So, Kakashi knows the pitying look on Pakkun's face when he sees it, the one where Pakkun thinks he's being stubborn but doesn't deem the issue worth pushing.

"Let's get going," Kakashi says. "The others will catch up."

Pakkun sighs but disappears with a poof, never one for long-distance runs like the others are.

Kakashi takes off without a backward glance.

.

.

Hiwa is struggling.

The longer she runs, the worse the ache gets, and at this point, she can't bring herself to enhance her hearing to get a gauge at how far behind her the Kusa nin are. Her regular pace wasn't enough to stay ahead of them and she's lagging a bit from that, going two thirds the speed or so.

Each breath is harder and harder to pull in and she's getting concerned one of her likely three broken ribs punctured a lung, at this point.

But she has a plan; she should stay ahead.

She had nine kilometers on them when she started and bought herself a bit more room with that explosive note stunt. She was right—they stopped for a few minutes to take stock, once they came across it. That stupid stunt will probably be what saves her when all is said and done.

She's going to cut it closer than she would ever want, but, _but_, she can do it. By the skin of her teeth, she'll do it.

One of her jumps jars her ribs and at the burst of pain, she misses her landing, distracted and late with her chakra application. Her foot slips. With what little coordination she has left, she manages to right herself in the air, so when she lands it's not flat on her face.

She tries to roll with it and the pain is so overwhelming that her vision whites out.

A few seconds pass, she thinks, when she comes back to awareness, laid flat on her back on the forest floor, her pack a few feet away.

The first thing she does is laugh. And fuck does it hurt. But the breathless, grim sound finds a way to leave her mouth anyways, about as mangled as she feels.

Her arm is leaden as she reaches up and brushes the sweat-matted mess that is her hair off her forehead. She stares up at the black sky, barely able to see the stars through the foliage.

She makes herself get back up; she makes herself keep moving.

A few seconds wasted won't be what dooms her, not this time.

.

.

It's adrenaline and pure bullheaded stubbornness that keeps her at the pace she needs to stay ahead.

That, and a soldier pill. One of the Inuzuka ones she still has, designed for a quick, intense burst of chakra rather than the drawn-out release of standard ones.

Hiwa pops it when she's only an hour and a half out from the border and can hear her tail growing closer and closer, having picked up the pace when they made the same realization that she did: she's almost in the clear. Sort of, at least.

She planned for this. She knew they would try and press her right in the last leg.

She also knows that even with the help of the pill, she has no hope of matching their pace if they buckle down. But she's given herself enough space that they won't catch up to her in time to corner her. They shouldn't, at least.

As much as Hiwa would love to have an unshakeable confidence n this, though, the realist in her knows that at best, she's hedging a bet.

Her mental map of the scouting posts tells her that there isn't much guarding this part of the border if she is where she thinks she is. At the very least, the topography around makes it clear that she didn't cut as far east as she meant to, nowhere near as much, and according to the map she saw in Jiraiya's office the concentration of posts has moved further north to only the more northern parts of the border with Rain Country. Most of their forces are concerned with securing the Grass Country border, rather than Rain Country. She's too south to run into scouting post.

It's too late to course-correct because trying to shoot for the border will leave her in Rain longer than she'd like. She has to loop back north regardless to pick up Rei, and she'd rather do that in her home turf where there's a chance that she might run into some Konoha nin.

So, she pushes her pace as fast as she can physically manage with the pain in her chest and the ache in her bones, and she sticks it out.

.

.

Kakashi finds out he's right, as always.

They end up picking her path near the bottom third of Rain and follow it down. He's not sure what to make of the fact that once they _do _find it, she only has two trails, not four. And she's hurt. He can see in the unsteady, uneven rip of the bark that makes up her footfalls along the branches.

Whatever she did to lose half her entourage cost her.

"They've started gaining on her," Pakkun says. "The gaps between their jumps are growing while hers is shrinking."

Kakashi grits his teeth. "Let's move—double the pace. We're only an hour behind her. We can catch up."

"What do you think she'll do?"

"The second she crosses the border she'll go northeast." Kakashi drops his hand down on top of Rei's head. "She still thinks she has to retrieve this one. We'll meet her midway."

"You got it, boss."

.

.

Hiwa makes it through the border.

She starts to climb north the second she starts hopping through Hashirama trees, not wanting to give the Kusa nin a chance to cut her off.

And she would have kept heading that way if not for the fact that within half an hour of crossing the border into Fire Country, she gets a blip on her chakra radar that Rei is back above the border.

Hiwa stumbles the second she feels it and has to hastily grab at a branch in front of her, pulling painfully at her ribs, and lower herself to the ground. The sound of her heavy breathing echoes in the still night as she waits, unsure if it's a hallucination. But when it doesn't go away she _knows _it's real and while she can't find any type of rational reason for Rei to be there, Hiwa doesn't think twice before she throws herself back into the trees and alters her path again, now moving northwest instead of northeast.

Even if this gives the Kusa nin a chance to cut her off and corner her, Hiwa is fine with that—regardless of her injury, regardless of however the fuck Rei found herself here, Hiwa _has _to go to her.

She feels it, as she gets closer. As Rei's signature grows stronger and clearer.

It's the only thing Hiwa can bring herself to focus on.

A stupid thing, one she thinks might have cost her life when, ten minutes after her direction change, a form darts out from the trees and flies towards her. Hiwa almost screams—almost not because she doesn't try, but because the sound that leaves her is weak, more of a wheeze, like air being pushed out of a plastic bag.

Then the scent of artificial strawberry hits her nose and she sees the shock of bright white hair through the darkness.

She stumbles. "K—Kakashi?"

He grabs her by the shoulders, steadying her before she can land on her face. His hands are warm and firm and a wave of disbelieving relief washes over her like the sun after a week of cloudy grey skies.

"What are you—"

"How bad?" he asks, words clipped and tight.

"Where's Rei?"

"Moving towards the ninja who've been trailing you," he says. "How bad?"

"_What?_ No, she can't—she needs help we can't leave her alone—"

"My whole pack is with her, she'll be fine," he snaps. "Stop ignoring my question, Hiwa. How bad?"

"Bad," she manages. "Lungs—punctured, I think. I'm… pretty much out of chakra. I ate through the chakra from my soldier pill like, ten minutes ago. Might be concussed? Got smacked into the ground pretty…" She blinks. "Why are you here?"

In any other situation, the way his stone-cold expression melts into something more akin to stunned annoyance would have been comical. He echoes, "Why am I here."

"It—can't have been that long? Nobody… should know I needed back up…" The rest of the words die in her throat when one of his hands cups her jaw and he wipes the blood from her chin with his thumb, and his other hand shifts from her shoulder to the base of her neck, at her collarbone. "Uh. Kakashi?"

He seems almost as surprised to see her as she is him. His brow is furrowed and she can see the bag under his eye, more pronounced than usual, and the exhaustion that's as clear in him as she's sure it is in her.

Her brain can't quite wrap itself around the idea that he's here, solid, real, in front of her. How could he be here? Why is he here? It's been a handful of days since she left the village and there's no way anybody could have known that she'd run into trouble.

And why is his hand still cupped around her jaw? Why is his hand there in the first place? There's something indescribably tender about the way he does it, like she'll break if he holds her too hard, and despite the situation, she feels her cheeks flush red.

He looks like he's going to say something.

Wait.

Hiwa squints and realizes that he doesn't _look _like he's going to say something, he is saying something, and forces herself to focus and listen.

"... need to keep going, _how many are still following you?"_

She blinks. "I—sorry. Just two, I got rid of half of them. Dropped a mountain on them—"

"That's how you did that? You dropped—" He cuts himself off. "We have to move. Can you travel?"

Adrenaline and a soldier pill had kept her going before but with Kakashi here, she finds that her vision is getting blurrier with each second that passes. It was a mistake to stop, the way that taking a break in the last few miles of a marathon is a death sentence, asking for your body's fatigue to catch up with your mind and doom you to stagnation.

Which means that the longer they stand around, the more her answer creeps towards 'no, sweep me off my feet and carry me away'.

But before she can make the mistake of saying something that stupid, his whole body tightens up and his head snaps to the left, dropping his hand from her face to let it hover over his kunai holster. The killing intent that pours out of him is so thick and potent that Hiwa feels her knees shake a bit, beyond what they already were.

She doesn't know what happens. Where it comes from, who's doing it, what's even happening.

But out of nowhere, pain like nothing she's ever felt in her entire life engulfs her left leg. This time she does scream, and it's high-pitched and sounds almost like a child's.

She's surprised that she doesn't just pass out on the spot.

She falls to her right knee and the position makes it even worse, any movement of her left leg makes it worse, and she finally catches sight of what's done it. One hand presses into the dirt while the other wraps around her left knee, eyes wide.

The whole of her left foot is encased in a stone shoe. A chunk of earth shaped like a rectangle, crushing the life out of her foot. Not dirt, but cold, hardened stone.

Most of her thoughts are consumed by the shock and overwhelming pain.

However, the slightly delirious part of her mind that has the capacity for it wonders, _Is this karma?_

The irony of having her foot boxed in and crushed by stone only a few hours after she dropped a mountain on two people isn't lost on her.

Her stomach rolls, a wave of nausea ripping through her, but she manages to hold it in. Not like she even has anything to vomit—she's had a single ration bar to sustain her since she left, and she burned those calories a long time ago.

Hiwa blinks away the stars. A ragged, harsh breath tears itself out of her. Not a sob but close to one. And as the initial shock of the pain in her foot starts to recede, she becomes aware of how much worse the pain in her chest is, like she'd been punched in the gut, too.

She has no idea what's going on behind her—she doesn't have the wherewithal.

But she trusts Kakashi to have it handled.

Not like she could do anything to be helpful in a fight, at this point.

So she puts the whole thing out of her mind and focuses on keeping her breathing and her leg steady, eyes shut tight.

She thinks of that time when she was little, maybe five, and she cut herself on one of her dad's kunai, trying to experiment with them. This was when she mostly was an actual little kid—her past life's memories and her older consciousness were mostly dormant, still. But the memory is crystal clear.

Holding the too-heavy kunai. The leather supple but too slippery in uncalloused hands. How it slid right out of her fingers, even as she held it with both hands, and sliced a massive gash into her left foot. She stared at it down in shock before she started screaming her head off. Her dad came in with all the rush of a ninja, weapon drawn and ready for a fight, when he realized what happened.

He swept her up and ferried her over to the bathroom, where he kept his first-aid kit because he, like most ninja, avoided going to the hospital when at all possible.

He'd held her foot in his hand and smiled at her. "_This is going to hurt, okay?"_ he'd said. _"But you're a strong girl. I know you can do it._"

"_I don't want to_," she'd answered. _"I'm scared."_

And he told her, _"That's okay. Being scared is okay. But I have to do it. Just look at me, alright? Eyes on me._"

He took her foot and put in the four stitches himself, and anytime she started to squirm and cry, he would have her look at him, he'd smile, and he'd tell her it was okay. And when it was all done, he held her against his chest and soothed away the last of her tears.

She still has the scar, a clean line along the top of her foot. She's never been able to face her fears her quite as easily without him around to coach her through it, though.

A hand touches her shoulder and Hiwa jerks back, startled, already in panic mode. The movement sends a fresh wave of pain up her leg and her eyes fly open, a choked sound leaving her.

In the back of her mind, with what vague awareness she has beyond the immediate pain, she realizes that Rei's chakra signature, as close as it had gotten to her, is now heading away from them.

The hand doesn't move.

Once the initial shock clears, Hiwa realizes it's Kakashi, crouched in front of her. "With me?" he asks.

Hiwa nods once, slight and shaky.

"I need verbal confirmation."

Her hand clenches in the dirt, and the wet feel of soil under her nails helps to ground her. "I'm—I can hear you," she says, panting. "I'm cognizant."

Because that's what he's looking for. Whether or not she's lost in the haze of pain and fatigue, unable to comprehend anything that's going on around her.

But she's coming back. She's starting to see the world straight, not tilted. Enough that she understands what's happening when he pushes his fingers through a couple of seals, his gaze set on her foot.

She braces herself for pain, unsure of what he's about to try and do but trusting that it'll be something to help her.

The stone turns to dust around her foot and the sudden lack of pain is as startling as an increase would have been, and Hiwa gasps. The stab like a thousand tiny teeth gnawing at her foot subsides into more of a dull ache. All the tightness evaporating from her body, and her arm that had been supporting most of her weight goes boneless.

Kakashi keeps her upright, darting forward in time for her shoulder to land on his chest and his arm to wrap around her back. She lets herself lean into his chest, breathing heavily, once again a hair's breadth from passing out. It's tempting. It would be easy to let herself fall, but she isn't ready to, not yet, so she pinches her eyes closed and her hand curls into a weak fist, fighting to keep her wits about her.

He eases her back so she's sitting on her rear, her bad foot in front of her.

She appreciates that he doesn't tell her not to look at the mangled mess that is her left foot, but she can only manage a glance before she has to force herself to look up at the sky, tears stinging in her eyes for the first time since this mess started.

"That's bad," she chokes out over a laugh. "Wow. That's bad."

In a voice that could only belong to somebody used to being a commanding officer, Kakashi says, "Listen."

She forces herself to stare at him.

His eyes—both are open, and there's the Sharingan she's always heard was under there but never seen—flick over her face. She doesn't know what he's looking for.

His face draws shut like blinds being pulled over a window. "I need to set this."

"I know."

So without preamble, he pulls the first-aid kit out of his pack and hands her a bundle of bandages to squeeze.

"Rei?" she asks.

"She took care of one of the Kusa nin, one that was going to try and flank us while the other attacked. Kusa nin is dead, Rei's fine. I sent her back to the village with a note to warn them—she's faster than any of my ninken, and they're going to have to have a hospital room ready for you."

Hiwa nods, unable to do more than that right now.

She would have liked to see Rei, just to feel her, see her, but Hiwa can't argue with the logic.

_Two more dead._

The uncomfortable hollowness reminds her of her time on the frontlines during the war.

It falls into the rest of the tidal pool swirling around inside of her right now, though, lost amongst so much else, and she can't bring herself to try and fish it out.

Kakashi disappears for a few minutes to find a handful of sturdy branches to hold the bones in place.

Hiwa swallows bile.

Nobody has to tell her that this is going to hurt. Having her foot crushed like a car in a compactor hurt, but having to now set it without any type of pain medication is going to be an entire other level. She's watched it happen to other people. Hell, she _did _it to somebody else, once, way back when. She knows exactly what she's getting into on this one and she's not looking forward to it.

From out of his bag, Kakashi pulls out a shirt and rips a chunk out of it that he hands to her, and Hiwa bites down on it.

He doesn't count down from three or anything like that. He just double checks that she's got the roll of bandages in her fist and the cloth clenched beneath her teeth and he snaps the alignment of her ankle back into place.

Hiwa does blackout for a bit, on this one. She thinks she might have screamed, but she has no idea, and she doesn't feel it when Kakashi straightens out the rest of her foot.

When she comes back to herself, her upper body is twisted so that her forehead is pressed against Kakashi's chest, her bad foot still stretched out in front of her. The chunk of cloth that was in her mouth is thrown to the side. She can see blood spotted all over the cloth, probably from her lungs, once again.

The position isn't comfortable. She can't bring herself to move from it, though. The feel of her forehead pressed against something solid is too comforting.

A short, broken sob leaves her mouth, and she can feel Kakashi go as stiff as a board. She tries to stop the tears because she's already tired and she knows that he is, too, and if he's not equipped to handle this from her when he's well-rested she highly doubts he can do it now when he looks like he's been through the wringer. But once they start there's no stopping them, even though they feel like hot water on a burn with her ribs.

After a minute of this, Kakashi places a careful hand on her back and rubs it up and down.

"Sorry," Hiwa manages between crying and gasping for breath. She's not sure the words are even discernable. "Sorry, I'm—I'm sorry."

His other hand comes up to sit on the back of her head. He's solid when nothing else is, right now. "Breathe," he says, voice monotone. "With the state of your ribs, you're going to pass out if you lose your breath."

She tries.

But if anything it gets worse when she starts trying to slow down, and she ends up with hiccuping sobs that jar her ribs, the pain of which only seems to make her sob harder.

She's taken a flying leap well over the line of exhaustion and she's paying for it. Pots boil over, cups overflow, and turning off the tap doesn't get rid of the excess water—you have to pour it out.

With stiff movements, Kakashi picks up one of her hands and presses it against his chest. She feels the way his chest rises and falls with each deep breath he takes. And she doesn't think about it, but slowly, breath by breath, she feels the way her breathing relaxes to match his pace, and the sobs begin to slow down into more calm tears.

He lets go of her hand once she's gotten herself under control.

Hiwa keeps it there, though, pressed against him, and he doesn't push her off him or move away. He just lets her stay.

And in turn, she lets herself a minute of selfishness.

She remembers hearing that he'd been the one to carry her the whole way back from the resort, him tying the handkerchief around her finger, and then the way he touched her face, and she can't help but read the signals. Kakashi hanging around her, more. The takeout.

Then this. Letting her into his space, pulling her into it, even.

If Kakashi didn't want her to touch him, she wouldn't be touching him. It's as simple as that.

All of that emboldens her to give this a shot, to let herself have this because if she doesn't try now, she doesn't know when she'll have the chance to again. When she'll have the lack of inhibitions to let her do it without overthinking it, stepping back and questioning, weighing out the pros and cons of the situation.

"How'd you know to do that?" she asks. "It… helped. A lot."

She fully expects him to ignore the question, but after a minute of uncomfortable silence Kakashi says, "Minato."

"With you?"

"Teammate."

Like an idiot, she laughs. The movement stabs at her ribs like a knife and she sucks in an equally sharp breath at the burst of pain. Kakashi's grip on her tightens a fraction at the sound.

"Sounds like him," she says. "He seemed—seemed like the type to be good with kids. And that sort of stuff."

Kakashi doesn't miss a beat when he says, "I need to wrap your ribs."

The dodge is painfully obvious. She has no desire to call him on it, though.

"I know," she mumbles.

But she doesn't move and again, he doesn't make her, nor does he try to start wrapping her ribs.

So, she takes another swing at this. "I feel safe, around you."

Kakashi goes rigid. "You shouldn't."

"Do, though." She can feel herself starting to slip with the worst of things is over. The worst of the pain is passing, the worst of the danger is gone. Her body's not in fight or flight mode. "Have every mission we've been on. Specially since the last one, at the resort. Last few weeks. Now."

He pulls away, now, and stares down at her. His headband is back down covering his Sharingan, but the look in his normal eye is intense enough to count for both.

"You shouldn't—" Kakashi cuts himself off, and from the outline of his mouth under the mask, she can tell that he's scowling. "Why?"

She gives him a dopey smile. "You won't let stuff happen to me. And, you get it. All of it. The kinda hurt. With the 10th, and all that. Losing people. Just makes me feel good to be around you when you aren't tryna get on my nerves."

She waits for him to look at her like she's grown a second head or brush off the conversation or pull away. But he puts his hand on her face, again, like he did to wipe off the blood earlier, but this time there's no blood to wipe away. Just the feel of his gloved hand, warm and light, pressed against her skin, and his eye locked on her like she's a puzzle he's trying to solve.

It feels nice.

Too nice, actually, because her eyes start to get heavier. Her whole body is warm and tingly, especially where he's touching her, and she knows she's at the end of the line.

That she lasted this long is a feat in and of itself.

Because it feels polite to warn him, Hiwa says, "I'm gonna pass out."

She catches the look of panic on his face before she lets her eyes closed and falls forward. The last thing she feels is his arm around her, again, keeping her from falling into the dirt, before she's out cold.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

_._

* * *

_Just take the first step, no matter how slowly. _

* * *

Genma cracks the plate in his hand when he glances over his shoulder and sees Kakashi standing in his living room, ghostlike in the moonlight illuminating his form.

He spits out a curse and sets the now three pieces onto the counter. Raidou sends him a sideways look. Then he looks where Genma had, as well, and Genma feels some satisfaction when Raidou jumps and drops the cutting board he was in the middle of drying off.

Any of that dissolves when he takes in the blood all over Kakashi and the haggard look to him, clearly having only just gotten back into the village.

Genma squints at Kakashi. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Which is maybe not the most fair question for Genma to ask considering it's currently three in the morning and he's awake with Raidou keeping him company because he hasn't been able to sleep properly since Kakashi left the village a few days ago, since the anniversary of the Kyuubi went from something vague and far away to so close that he could count the days down on one hand. But at least he doesn't look like he'd been run through a woodchipper the way Kakashi does.

Blandly, Kakashi says, "Hiwa just went in for surgery."

A jolt runs through him and Genma reaches over to grip the counter at his back. "_What_?"

"What happened?" Raidou asked.

"Her foot got crushed. They're going to repair what they can surgically."

Genma pushes himself off of the counter. He squeezes out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "How bad?"

"She should be able to fight again." Kakashi shrugs. "There was other stuff, too. Three broken ribs, lung got punctured in a couple spots, and her chakra was low. They're concerned about damage from her having drained her chakra like that twice in two weeks."

"What… kind of mission was she sent on?" Raidou asks. "I thought she did civilian stuff."

Kakashi smiles. "Jiraiya sent her to Yomitan. Turns out, the three squads worth of ninja patrolling the area didn't take too kindly to her being there."

"She got _caught_?"

"I'm assuming so," Kakashi says. "She passed out before I could ask. But I'm not sure why else she would have been chased all over Rain Country by Kusa nin if she hadn't been caught."

"Rain? Wait, how on earth did she end up there?"

Kakashi shrugs.

"You—" Genma shakes his head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

He goes over to one of the drawers and rummages through it, coming out with a pen and paper in hand. He scribbles something out. "Here," he says, handing the slip of paper to Raidou. "Go to this address and tell him that Hiwa's back in the village."

"Genma," Raidou says. "It's three in the morning."

"He'll want to know. Just do it, alright?"

"Fine, man."

He takes the sheet from Genma, claps him on the shoulder, and heads out the window.

And then it was just the two of them.

Quietly, Genma asks, "How bad was she? When you found her?"

Genma sees a flicker of something in Kakashi's face. Kakashi shoves his hands in his pockets and his gaze goes off centre, aimed at the cupboard behind Genma's shoulder instead of Genma's face.

"Bad," he says.

Genma mumbles a handful of curses under his breath. "What about you?"

Kakashi blinks.

"None of that blood is yours?"

Kakashi shrugs.

"Kakashi."

"No injuries."

Genma frowns, taking a step forward. "But are you… alright?"

He's asking that on a couple levels.

Physically, given that Kakashi looks awful and probably hasn't rested much in the last three days, much less slept.

And mentally and emotionally, because with only a few days until the anniversary of the Kyuubi attack everything feels about five degrees off its axis for the entire village. Genma only knew Minato for a matter of months and that relationship isn't even remotely comparable to what Kakashi had with Minato. That wound's raw for everybody, right now.

The look Kakashi takes on is one of slight distaste, a deflection, which is about what Genma expects. But Genma doesn't miss the defensive posture that his body moves into, shoulders bunched up and weight leaned onto his heels, hands going deeper into his pockets.

Not sadness or grief—that posture is fear all the way down.

Just like that, it clicks for Genma. "That scared you."

Kakashi's nose wrinkles further.

"Watching her get hurt like that scared you," Genma says.

The silence between them fizzes like it's been charged and Genma knows he hit some kind of spot with that.

With the loss of Minato bubbling to the surface again, somebody who Kakashi was physically restrained from helping, Genma can't imagine how it'd sting to come so close to not saving somebody else. Hell, Genma _knows _it—he was in those shoes a few weeks ago. Is right back in those shoes, not that he's properly processed it yet.

He thought Kakashi handled the situation with such a rigid, cold detachment, and he feels like an idiot for forgetting where that detachment comes from.

All Genma saw at the resort was a chakra-exhausted Hiwa. Seeing her coughing up blood, with punctured lungs and broken ribs, visibly struggling to breathe—struggling to do such a basic function—and a shattered foot on top of that? Genma sets his jaw at the thought. It's not an image he thinks he'd ever be able to get out of his head, if he'd been there for it.

But all Kakashi says is, "She's in room one-eighteen."

And Genma can sense what's about to happen, that Kakashi's about to run away, and he takes another step forward. "Kakashi. Wait."

"Waiting."

"Don't do anything stupid."

Kakashi's visible eye widens. For a second, a single breath, Genma can see the raw fear in Kakashi's face, so much that it makes his gut twist, then Kakashi's entire expression closes up. Without another word he flashes away, and in his wake Genma's window sits open, the drapes flapping around in the wind.

Genma goes over to his closet and pulls out his flak jacket.

He doesn't know where Kakashi's gone, but Genma knows where _he _needs to be. And it's not in his apartment right now.

He hops out onto the ledge under his window. Making sure the thing is closed behind him, sealed up tight, he heads off towards the hospital for whatever's waiting for him there.

.

.

Jiraiya's already in front of Hiwa's hospital room, leaned against the wall with his head bowed and his arms crossed over his chest, when Genma gets there. Rei's curled up on the floor at his feet, her head on her paws.

As Genma approaches, Jiraiya acknowledges him with a brief nod.

"What's happening?" Genma asks.

Rei peeks up at him for a second before deciding he isn't interesting and closing her eyes again.

"She'll be out of surgery in half an hour," Jiraiya says. "From what the medics said, things are looking good. Hatake was able to set the worst of it right away. That's basically the only reason she won't have to retire."

Genma lets out a breath. "Good."

Yet another thing Genma is selfishly glad he wasn't around for. Setting bones is nasty business. Out in the field, without anesthesia?

He can't even imagine what kind of pain Hiwa was in during that, and what it would have been like if he was the one who had to try and set it for her. He's got a strong stomach; he likes to think he would have managed to do it just fine. But it wouldn't have been pretty.

Jiraiya straightens. He makes towards the way Genma came, pausing a few steps down to stare Genma down, eyebrows raised. "They think she'll probably wake up tomorrow, or the day after."

It's meant to be intimidating, Genma knows that, and it absolutely is.

Not that he needs to be told to hang around—at this point, they'd have to forcibly remove him from the hospital if they didn't want him here when Hiwa wakes up. So, Genma squares his shoulders and holds Jiraiya's gaze. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Got your head out of your ass, then?"

Genma narrows his eyes.

And at that, Jiraiya scoffs. "Come off it. You think I wouldn't know about this? It's literally my job, kid." He laughs. "For what it's worth, I'm happy for you two. Think it's cute."

"Thanks," Genma says dryly.

"Yeah." Jiraiya nods. He gives Genma more of an evaluating look, and quietly, he adds, "She's gonna need you when she wakes up."

Before Genma can say anything else, Jiraiya's gone, striding down the hall.

Genma takes a seat on the floor beside Rei. He rubs her head.

After a piercing glance, Rei deems him worthwhile and she shifts so that she's laid out on her side and her head's in his lap.

Together, they settle in to wait it out.

* * *

The first thing Hiwa notices when she wakes up is that she can breathe.

The second thing is that she's not in pain.

Hiwa's eyes flutter open.

She takes in the bland hospital room, empty white walls and white sheets, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air, the plain black t-shirt she's been put into, and Genma asleep, half in his chair and half on her bed, his brown hair loose of its usual bandana and splayed around him.

He's close enough that she's able to reach out her hand and card his fingers through his hair. It's as soft as it was the last time she got to do this, silky and feathery like a puppy's downy fur.

Genma stiffens at the contact. His eyes blink open, the soft hazelnut colour given a gold hue in the light of the afternoon sun. An equally soft grin breaks out over his face when he notices her awake, her hand still settled in his hair.

"Hi," she says, her voice gravelly.

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

She thinks about the lightness in her limbs and how it's contrasted with the heaviness of her eyelids, the way more than a handful of seconds seems to pass each time she blinks, and the fact that she definitely should be in some pain, all things considered.

"Drugged?" she asks.

"Heavily. You came out of surgery yesterday."

She nods and instantly regrets it from how it makes the world swim before her eyes. "Ah," she says. "Not a fan."

Genma distangles her fingers from his hair and weaves his fingers through hers, sitting up.

Hiwa lifts their now intertwined hands, eyebrow raised.

"We can talk about that tomorrow." He grins at her, crooked and soft, and when her stomach lurches at the sight of it, she doesn't feel quite so nervous about it. "I don't think you want to have that conversation when you're on enough painkillers to put out a horse."

"Rei?"

"Will probably be back in a few hours. She's been here most of the time."

"She's alright?"

"Fine. Didn't have any injuries, I don't think—Taru came and checked her out, just in case."

The fact that Taru and Genma know each other now, apparently, catches her attention, but that's a topic for another day. "Kakashi?"

Genma frowns. "No idea."

Hiwa's next breath is sharp as she remembers the last thing on her checklist. Sharp enough that she coughs, regretting it instantly, and a sliver of pain manages to peek through the drugs.

Concern overshadows Genma's expression. He leans forward and places a warm hand on her back, rubbing it in circles. "Hey, whoa. You might not be hurting too bad right now, but—"

"What day is it?" she manages.

And the concern doesn't go away, but something more complicated clouds his expression, and Hiwa's gut sinks all the way to the earth's core.

"October 13th," he says. "It's about two in the afternoon."

"I need to go to the memorial stone."

Genma stiffens, eyeing her warily. "You've got an IV drip, just had surgery on your foot, and are still in the process of waking up after being in a medically induced coma for four days. Not to mention that your ribs _and _lungs aren't healed, as you just saw, even if they don't hurt right now."

"Please," Hiwa says, and her voice cracks on the word like glass being dropped. "I _need _to go."

He stares at her for a long minute, and without a senbon in his mouth Hiwa can hear how his teeth click against each other instead of metal. Genma looks down at their hands, then the rest of the room.

"Alright."

.

.

Sneaking Hiwa out of the hospital with her IV is an experience. Genma ends up having to carry her bridal style, careful of her foot and her ribs, and she holds the metal pole. Keeping it upright is the main challenge. But, they do it.

They're a sight, she's sure, and once it gets back to Jiraiya or Taru she knows she'll be in for a lecture, but she can't find it in her to care.

All that matters is that the clearing with the stone is empty when she and Genma get there, and she doubts they'll get any more than five or ten minutes of that.

It'll do.

She ends up using the IV pole as a crutch of sorts, holding onto it for balance while she stands on her good foot. Shaky as her legs are, she's able to keep herself up. It's reassuring to feel that. After all she's been leaning on other people, lately, it's good to remember that she can hold her own weight when she needs to.

Genma starts to step back.

Hiwa catches his hand with her free one before he can get far. He freezes, letting her hold his hand, his fingers lax in hers. She's feeling brave, again; it's what her dad would have wanted for her, and she wants it for herself.

"You don't have to leave," she says.

"You sure?"

She tilts her head. "Do you wanna stay?"

His fingers curl up around hers. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Then stay."

She tugs him towards her.

Genma lets her, and he ends up on her non-broken rib side with his arm wrapped around her waist, letting her lean her weight into him. She settles her head on his shoulder.

"I think I'm supposed to say that it doesn't feel like it's been three years," she says. "But it really does."

His lips press into her scalp, an act she commends him for because she knows it's been far too long since her hair's gotten cleaned. She appreciates it—being kissed by him again sends a shiver down her spine and a surge of warmth that flows all the way down to her toes.

"I know what you mean," he mumbles into her hair. He breathes out, and she feels the short burst of cold air.

"Some days it feels like it hasn't happened. Like, I'll turn around and just expect he'll be there in the kitchen, drinking tea like he always was. And he's not. And that's never gone away." She tries to shrug but stops part way through when it brings the first major twinge of pain from her ribs. "I don't think it ever will."

His thumb starts to rub circles on the skin between her shirt and the loose, black shorts somebody had put her in.

Hiwa stares at the stone, her gaze distant. "I wasn't even in the village for it. I think that's always made it worse. I left the village and things were looking up, you know? The war took a lot from both of us. It took my team, but… but I think it took his spirit. And that was starting to get better. He was doing better. Then I come home one day and the village's in ruins, our hokage is dead, and Dad's dead."

Her throat tightens.

God, that day was a living nightmare.

She remembers that Tsume was the one to break the news to her, after she'd gotten home and found her house empty. She doesn't remember much else than that—the next few weeks passed in a haze for her. Taru was around a lot, she thinks. So was Tsu. But she thinks it's for the best, that those aren't days she can recall clearly.

"I feel that way with Minato, sometimes."

Hiwa hums.

"Didn't know him long. Or that well, honestly, not the way somebody like Kakashi would have," Genma says. "But he was a hands-on guy. Always talked to us. Kept a handle on how things in our lives were going." He chuckles. "He started helping with my training when he could, beyond teaching us the Thunder God technique. Would send a clone to give advice on my kata, and stuff. I even sparred with one, once—I was on the ground and the clone was still standing." Genma leans his chin on her head and she tips her temple onto his collarbone. "I got used to seeing him everywhere, you know? He would have dozens of clones kicking around. Always popping in. And then all of a sudden he just… wasn't. And…"

_And it was my fault_, Hiwa hears in her head.

"And it's not fair," she finishes for him.

He huffs out a laugh. "No. Not fair at all."

Hiwa bows her head.

_Sorry I wasn't here again, dad. I wanted to be but… you know how it is. Next year, I promise. Really promise._

She feels her throat clog up.

_I'm sorry I missed it. I'm sorry I'm not an Inuzuka anymore. I hope you'd still be proud of me because I think I left for the right reasons. You were always proud of me when I did my best, so I think you would, but… I'm still sorry. The clan meant so much to you. I miss it. I think this was worth it, though. You wouldn't want me getting wrapped up in something like that when I didn't want to, and… I think you'd like Genma. Not so sure how you'd feel about Kakashi, but then again, neither am I._

_I love you, dad, and I miss you. I'll come visit with Taru again soon._

Her mind drifts a bit.

She feels like she hasn't had a chance, yet, to properly process all the loss of life she's witnessed in the last little while. It's not much to many, but it's the most in such a short span that she's seen since the war.

_I guess that started with you, Hagare Mitsuki. I hope you're somewhere nice. You were just trying to do your job. I'm sorry. Maybe you're up there, or maybe you went through the same shit that left me here, in this world. But whichever… hope you're happy._

She gives a minute each to the four Kusa nin. She didn't know them, she didn't even see the last two, but she remembers them. Gives them a brief space in her mind.

And then with a low, slow breath, she lets all of it go from her soul.

Her shoulders feel a bit lighter as she opens her eyes and blinks away the sheen of tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

For the briefest second, Hiwa catches a mop of silver hair and a languid body leaned up against a tree in her peripheral, but it's gone by the time she turns her head to look properly.

There's no mistaking the scent, though, that lingers on the breeze.

* * *

"_All _of them?"

"Vast majority," Jiraiya says. "I think the last couple pulled back before he got to them."

"But effectively Kakashi destroyed their defensive line," Genma says, his senbon tucked into the corner of his mouth, "and sent Kusa running for the hills."

"Yep."

"Shit," Hiwa mumbles.

Jiraiya shrugs from where he's stretched out in the dinky hospital chair. "Seems to have done the trick. Kusa's back at the bargaining table, and they seem a hell of a lot more willing to work with us, this time around. Lord Third thinks we'll be able to put all this business behind us in the next couple weeks."

Hiwa frowns, shifting so she's sitting a bit higher. With the pillows stacked behind her she's able to sit up without the position putting too much strain on her still healing ribs. "But, what?"

"Eh?"

She pulls a face. "That's your 'but' voice. What's the catch?"

Jiraiya flicks his gaze over to Genma and quirks an eyebrow.

_Oh_.

Genma seems to pick up on the fact that the conversation's veered into questionable territory because before either of them can say anything, he's up on his feet and headed towards the door. "Gonna grab some lunch," he says. "I'll bring you something back, 'kay?"

And he's out the door.

Hiwa pinches the bridge of her nose. Not out of frustration with him, but the situation in general.

Their conversation about, well, _them _hasn't happened yet. Which is more to do with the fact that once they got back to the hospital Hiwa conked out for another two days, so they literally haven't had the chance to talk about it, yet. But Hiwa can feel the unresolved nature of their dynamic like dirt under her nails and she's ready to hammer it out and smooth away all the potential wrinkles.

This being one of those wrinkles.

"Nara?" Hiwa says.

"Isn't it always?" Jiraiya says. He clears his throat. "Lord Third made a decision."

Hiwa chews on her lip. "And?"

"Well, the upside is that he didn't leave it to go to the Nara council."

"... but?"

"I don't know that you'll like the decision Lord Third came to himself."

Jiraiya pulls out a scroll from his bag and tosses it onto Hiwa's bed, a few inches from her hand.

She unfurls it and scans it.

When she gets to the end, where Hiruzen has his decision written out, her eyes go wide. "_What_?"

"You're welcome to try and appeal it," Jiraiya says. "If you can convince the Nara to back down, Lord Third said he'd reverse it."

The marriage stays intact, the Nara won't have any kind of control over her, and she's not being fined or arrested. And that's all good. It's great, even. Better than she could have hoped for in a lot of other places.

But the ruling?

"Lord Hokage shouldn't be allowed to dictate what I can and can't pass down to my children, and he _absolutely _shouldn't be allowed to give the Nara a right to stake a claim on _my _future children if they're born with an aptitude for using the Shadow Techniques," she says. "That's not fair."

"Can't pass down what you don't own. And at least that way, if they're anything like you and decide to try and learn to use it against literally all guidance, they'll have actual lessons on how to do it safely and effectively."

Hiwa gives him a blank look.

"Look, kid. I'm not saying I agree with it, but I see where he's coming from and frankly, I think you're getting off easy."

"It's the _principle _of it, Jiraiya."

"I know. Which is why I warned you that you wouldn't like it—I knew you wouldn't. And that's also why I said that if you want to, you can go talk to the Nara. See if they'll back down."

"They won't when they know they have the upper hand."

The Nara are nothing if not suckers for a tactical advantage.

"Shikaku won't," Jiraiya says. "I don't think his council will let him."

"His council?"

"Just like the Inuzuka had a council of elders, so do the Nara. And a lot of the major ninja clans."

Hiwa waves a hand. "Yeah, obviously. But why—"

"I've gotten some information during all of this that suggests Shikaku… might not be the driving force in this whole situation."

"And?"

Jiraiya's gaze grows weary and he sighs. "Who do you think is on that council?"

It takes a solid thirty seconds to click for Hiwa and after that she feels like the biggest dumbass to ever walk this planet. "Oh." She sighs. "Mom is the daughter of the last clan head… of _course _she's on the fucking council."

"Yep."

"Which makes all of this so much more complicated." With a thump, Hiwa lets her head fall back onto the pillows. "This feels like a loss. I know it's not, but it's…"

"Not an unambiguous victory."

"Yeah."

"I tried, kid," he says. "This is as good as it was gonna get."

"I know. And I'm grateful that you did as much as you did. So thank you, for that. I wouldn't even have gotten this if it wasn't for you."

Jiraiya's smile is wry when he says, "But it's still not what you wanted."

Hiwa shrugs.

"Like I said, I know. Shitty situation from go." He jerks his thumb towards the door. "When you planning on telling that one?"

"I don't…" She frowns. "I don't know."

The first thought in her head is 'does he need to know?' but that doesn't sit right with her, anymore.

"Soon," she says.

"Don't put it off."

"I don't know that you should be offering relationship advice."

"Oi, this is just decent human being advice."

"Points stands."

Jiraiya scoffs. "Fine, I can see where I'm not wanted," he says, hauling himself up to his feet.

Hiwa cracks a smile and tosses the scroll back to him, not wanting to keep looking at it. "Tough crowd."

"I think that's my line."

She shrugs.

"Anyways, I have shit to do, and this has been fun, but I gotta get back to it," Jiraiya says.

"Can't be late to that hot springs appointment?"

He points a finger at her. "Thin ice."

Her smile grows wider. She laughs, light and breathy, and Jiraiya rolls his eyes.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" he says. "And talk to Pretty Boy about this."

"I will."

"Good."

He makes for the window, but before he can go, Hiwa says, "Wait."

One hand rested on the sill and one foot already propped up on the bottom of the frame, Jiraiya twists around to look at her again.

Hiwa takes a deep breath. "Can you tell Kakashi to stop by?"

"You think I know where he is?"

"I mean, yeah."

"You'd be right. Fine. Why you want to talk to him?"

Because if she's getting her relationships together, it's time to pull up her panties and sort out whatever the hell is going on between the two of them. And that thought gets her face flaming bright red.

"Oh, no way," Jiraiya says, looking downright delighted. "Is this a love triangle I smell?"

"No?"

"Wanna run that one by me again? More feeling, this time."

"I don't know! We need to talk about it."

"Man, I can see it now—_torn between her husband and her past flame, Junko must_—"

Mortified and with an even redder face than before, Hiwa yanks one of the pillows out from behind her head and chucks it at him. "Please stop. Please. I think my ears are bleeding."

Jiraiya cackles. "You can bet I'll find a way to get him here, now!"

"Jiraiya—"

"Later, kid!"

And then she's alone in her hospital room.

Maybe she should have just sent Genma. That was her initial choice, until she realized Genma might not be able to track Kakashi down. Because if Kakashi didn't want to be found? Good luck trying. Jiraiya is one of the only people who could get to Kakashi, no matter what.

It's a good idea in theory. She'll see how it goes in practice.

Genma comes back into the room with a couple bowls of rice in his hands. Each has a strip of salmon on top, some kind of brown sauce drizzled on it. It's not a lot, but her stomach grumbles at the sight.

He stops a few steps into the room and frowns. "Everything good?"

Hiwa pauses.

When she doesn't answer, Genma wanders back to his seat at her bedside and hands her one of the bowls. She takes it, trying for a smile, and holds off a sigh.

No time like the present.

She pokes at the salmon with her chopsticks, shaking her head. "Things are just… complicated right now."

"What's going on?"

"Well…"


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

_A second chance isn't intended to make things right,_

_but to prove that we can do better even if we've failed the first time._

* * *

"So what are you going to do?"

Hiwa's mouth twists into a grimace. She sets her empty bowl down on her bedside. "I don't know."

Genma raises an eyebrow.

"Okay—I know what I _should _do, I just don't want to do it."

"And?"

"I… think I need to go talk to my mom." She pauses. "And Lord Hokage, if that doesn't work."

"Gonna plead your case."

Hiwa shrugs. "There's nothing really else to do. I can't… I don't know that I want my kids to learn this technique without proper training—what I can do with it isn't enough that I'd ever try to pass it down. As frustrating as it is, I think I can live with that condition. But I don't want the Nara to have any kind of claim over my kids. Ever. If any kids I have want to join them, fine."

Genma nods slowly, twining his fingers with his. "I'm with you on that one."

"You think it'll work?"

"I think it's worth trying," he says. "Hard to say with them, but better to do something than nothing, and if anybody can talk their way out of this, it's you. Wish I could do more to help—"

She stares down at their joined hands and smiles. "You've done more than enough, I think."

Like a kunai dipped in poison, she hears the bitterness creep into his voice as he says, "If you say so."

Her smile falls away. She doesn't let a frown take its place, but her brows knit together and her grip on his hand tightens. "Hey," she says. "What was that?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"No, not nothing."

"Hiwa—"

"We could talk about business all day, and I'm probably going to be _thinking _about it all day," she says, not letting him get far, "but we have some other stuff we need to talk about." She takes as deep a breath as she can without straining her still tender ribs and steels herself. "A lot of other stuff to talk about, actually."

She can'tdance around this forever. _They _can't.

And she'd rather talk about this than the Nara because she can't really do much about that until she's back on her feet. This she can deal with right here, right now.

"You're upset," she says.

"I'm not—" Genma bites off the rest of his words and his teeth click against his senbon. "Yeah, I'm upset."

Hiwa nods. "Okay."

Rather than talk, Genma adjusts the chair a bit. He pushes it back so the arm is pressed against Hiwa's bed and turns to face her. One leg dangles off the chair while the other curls up to his chest, his chin settled on it. This way, the hold he has on her hand is looser but more comfortable, Hiwa would guess, since he's not having to reach his arm so far.

He runs his thumb over her knuckles. Lets his eyes linger down there, not meeting her gaze.

"Back at the resort, I told you I wasn't going anywhere," he finally says. "I lied. I left. And if you had died… there would have been no fixing that." He shrugs. "And there was nothing I could do to help you when you were in a bad spot."

His eyes drift to her foot, still heavily bandaged and held together by superb medical ninjutsu and a splint. Then up to her decently healed ribs and lungs.

Gemma shakes his head. He mumbles, "It's been a long time since I was that scared, after Kakashi came and found me."

Hiwa doesn't apologize about that because she knows she doesn't need to. She did as well as she could, and getting hurt on the job is how things go, even if she feels bad for having scared both him and Kakashi by the sound of it. But she does have _something _he's owed an apology for.

"I'm sorry I put you in that position," Hiwa says. "That I dragged things out when we could have probably solved it sooner."

He blows out a long breath. "I'm kind of glad you dragged it out, honestly. If you let me try and hash things out with you the first time, I probably would have regretted things more, with what I planned to do."

"Still wasn't fair of me."

"No, probably not. But it's not like I was being fair, either."

"It…" She frowns. "It was honestly really confusing when you acted like that, after we first got back. And hurtful. It made me think I had imagined everything, or like you…"

When she doesn't finish her sentence, Genma quietly asks, "Like I what?"

She bites her bottom lip. It takes her a handful of seconds to decide whether she wants to leave it hanging or give him the blunt answer, but in light of this being an airing out session of sorts, she goes with the latter. "Like you decided I wasn't worth it. Changed your mind."

Genma winces. His grip on her hand tightens. "I'm sorry," he says. "That was really shitty of me."

"A bit, yeah," she says. "Why did you… you know. Do it?"

He rolls the senbon around his mouth a little, working his jaw, and Hiwa lets him have his time to think about it. She won't take the question back, but she won't rush him, either. This isn't a question she can let go.

"Same reason as you," he says. "It scared me, how much I cared about you, even after such a short amount of time. I figured I was going to like you. Like I said back when we first met, I wanted to be your friend, if we did all of this. But I didn't expect things to get…" He trails off and rather than finish the sentence, he nods to their joined hands. "And I didn't know how to handle it. Still kind of don't."

He looks up at her, jaw set. "I've let down everybody I've ever cared about. And everybody who has ever cared about me and trusted me. I was terrified that I was going to do the same to you, and… thought that I did, at the resort. Because you trusted we would get there in time and we almost didn't."

"Oh." Hiwa nods, slowly. "I mean. A bit of self-sabotage, on that one, given how things went after we got back from the mission. Not that I think we need to retread that ground." She shakes her head. "You didn't let me down, at the resort."

His expression twists. "Hiwa—"

"You didn't," she says firmly. "Yes, I trusted you to come in time. But that was an educated gamble, and not one I made lightly. I studied how long you guys were taking and did the math based on that and how long I knew I could hold it. If you hadn't come when you did, I had a plan B; I had no plans of letting myself keel over permanently from chakra exhaustion." She shrugs. "Frankly, your timing was fairly good. Could you and Kakashi have checked in earlier? Maybe. Did I cut it a bit closer than I wanted to? Yeah. But I wouldn't have wanted you to route from the main objective like that."

"Cut it close…" Genma lets out a shaky breath. He closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead, and says, "I thought you were dead, with the way you dropped."

It makes her feel like an asshole, that she never considered that. Never thought about what that would look like to him and Kakashi. No wonder he was so spooked—she would have been, too.

"I'm sorry. Really. I didn't expect to scare you, like that."

"I figured," he says, giving her a half-hearted grin. "Still scared the shit out of me, though."

"Yeah… that's fair."

"And I might not have pulled my head out of my ass if your friend Taru hadn't come and talked to me."

"Taru came and talked to you?"

"After you left on your mission, yeah. Wanted to figure out where you'd gone—"

"Oh, Kami. He's going to kill me for doing that again…"

"He seemed more concerned than mad, last time he was in."

Hiwa sighs. "Yeah. Sorry, I sidetracked you there, uh—what did he say to you?"

"Told me about what happened with him and his first wife. What almost happened with him and his current wife. It… reminded me that I was hurting both of us by bowing out and trying to bury all of this. Like he said to me, not showing up to a fight is as good as losing, so what's the point? Might as well stick it out and try."

"I kind of want to kill him for getting involved, but…" She smiles. "I'm glad he did."

"He seems like a good guy," Genma says. "I'm glad you have him."

"Yeah. Me too."

They fall quiet.

Hiwa can feel Rei's signature drawing close to the hospital, trailing back from a trip out to the forest.

Hiwa's apartment is small enough. But this hospital room? Tiny. And Hiwa has been making sure that Rei spends enough time out and about, burning off some energy rather than staying cooped up in here all day. Mostly, Rei doesn't fight her on it.

Unless Genma is gone, too, in which case Rei refuses to budge until he gets back.

She also watches as Genma, somehow having developed a sixth sense for this, gets up a handful of seconds before Rei lets out a low bark outside Hiwa's door. Rei bops her head on Genma's leg before she heads over to Hiwa.

To keep Hiwa from having to stretch to pet her, Rei propers her paws up on the side of Hiwa's bed once she gets over to it. Her massive head plops down onto the blanket, her nose poking into Hiwa's thigh.

"Hey big girl," Hiwa says. She runs her hand over the bristly, rough fur between Rei's ears, and her fingers come up damp. "Went for a swim?"

Rei lets out an affirmative huff.

"Smart. And appreciated. I think you gave the medics an aneurysm the last time you came in here dirty."

Which in fairness, Hiwa can understand. Since she and Genma took that trip to the stone, the nurses deemed Hiwa a flight risk and have been keeping a closer eye on her room. Which means that when one poor soul came in to check on her and found a mess of mud and animal blood all over the floor, he panicked.

Hiwa felt bad for that one—she couldn't exactly blame him.

After a few minutes of getting her head patted, Rei pushes back off of the bed and wanders over to the collection of blankets laid out in the corner for her. She watches the two of them, her head laid out on her front paws.

Genma settles back in his chair, yawning, and reaches for her hand again.

The air remains still and quiet between them but it feels lighter. "Uh. Are we… good?"

"Do you have anything else you wanna bring up?"

Hiwa shakes her head. "No, I think I got it all covered. You?"

"Don't think so."

"Right, sorted," she says. She clears her throat. "I'm going to ask the weird question we're avoiding, then."

"Okay?"

She feels like an idiot, but she asks, "Are we dating?"

He looks like he's holding in a laugh with the way his shoulders hunch a bit and the muscles around his mouth strain to contain his smile. "Do you want to be?"

"Do… _you _want to be?"

His face takes on a gentle exasperation. He huffs out a little breath, losing his battle against the laughter, and his grip on her hand tightens. "Considering the fact that I've only let go of your hand to get food, go to the washroom, and occasionally leave the hospital for training during the last week and a half, I'm going to say yes."

"Oh," Hiwa says. "Cool."

"I'm sorry, that's all you have?"

All of the heat rushes to her face, ears, and neck. "My answer is yes, too. I find the idea of calling you my boyfriend to be very appealing."

That feels like the dumbest possible way she could have gotten her feelings across, but at least Genma seems to find it funny. Good humor dances in his eyes and dryly, he says, "I'm technically your husband."

"That's a bridge we can cross when we get there."

Genma snorts. "Yeah, fair."

"But, uh. There's something else I should… mention."

He stiffens, and she manages a fleeting, small smile for him.

She clears her throat and says, "I think I've also got… a thing. For Kakashi."

There isn't any one reaction Hiwa is expecting to this statement. He has never struck her as the angry, jealous type. Though she thought she might prefer that reaction over him being hurt or sad or something, because that was infinitely more painful to deal with. Or worse, some messy combination of the two.

She didn't expect for him to start chuckling.

Hiwa's face cools a bit, but she knows her cheeks are still very pink. "Why is that funny?"

"I just…" Genma shakes his head, the remnants of his laughter fading off. "That's not what I thought you were going to say."

"What did you think—"

He waves a hand, still smiling. "Something bad."

"Isn't… that bad?"

"Well. That depends."

"... how?"

"I'm not opposed to a more open kind of relationship, you know," he says. "I don't mind if you have other people you want to go after while we're together."

"Oh."

"Is that a good 'oh'?"

Is it?

That wasn't an offer she expected to get from him. Though, in hindsight, maybe she should have as she's pretty sure she already knew this about him. That he was the kind of guy to have a few people on the go at once. She assumed it was out of aversion to commitment and while his reaction to her doesn't entirely contradict that, it also makes sense that he just prefers polyamory over monogamy.

"I'm surprised," Hiwa settles. "A good surprised, though."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. But I need to think about it."

"I figured."

"I will say though… if we do that, it'd be a mutual thing. And I wouldn't mind if we're going after the same person."

His eyebrows shoot up. "You wouldn't?"

"No. It, uh." Hiwa legitimately wishes she had a fan to try and cool herself off but she actually _wants _to say this, just to see his reaction. "I kind of… like it?"

Something curls in Hiwa's gut when she sees the sly grin on his face, how it's so self-assured, so _Genma_. It's the grin of the man she remembers falling for. The calm, confident guy who welcomed her into his life and his home with a shrug and a smile.

He leans forward, kneeling on the chair, and his lips brush against her ear. He lowers his voice to a deep, almost purr-like tone as he says, "Kakashi and I have been hooking up since we got back to the village."

Hiwa feels herself melt on the spot and an awful little giggle leaves her lips. She claps a hand against her mouth, startled, eyes wide.

Genma collapses back into his chair cackling, momentarily letting go of her hand to wrap his arms against his midsection.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Absolutely."

Hiwa's grateful both of her hands are free, now, because she covers her face with them, hoping that it might hide the redness. "I knew it, I _knew _it," she mutters. "Holy shit."

"Did you?"

"I mean, not that you guys were, you know, after you got back. I knew you guys were screwing during the mission—"

"Wait, whoa," Genma says. He pulls her hands away from her face. "You did?"

"Yeah?" Hiwa says. "I could smell it on you. After you came back from the hot springs one time." When he still looks confused, she says, "That night we were going to see that performance in the ballroom?"

And she sees the realization wash over him, followed up by yet another cock-eyed smirk. "Huh."

"What?"

"I just… I remember that, now." He laughs again. "And I wondered whether you were upset, or something. 'Cause I invaded your space. You got all weird. But you weren't upset, were you?" Genma wiggles his eyebrows at her, leaning forward again. "You were into it."

"... maybe."

"Just maybe?"

Somehow, Hiwa feels her face get even warmer and never has she wished more to have tan cheeks that _don't _flush at the drop of a hat. "_Genma_."

"This is an important question."

She wants a hole to come and swallow her up. A bolt of thunder to strike her where she lays. A stray jutsu to blow her up (just her, nobody else in this hospital) and scatter her soul into a million tiny, untraceable specks of dust.

"Yes," she murmurs, unable to look him in the eye. "Yes, I was."

She expects him to laugh again, but she feels him lift her hands up to his lips, lightly kissing one set of knuckles and then another, the action so tender and sweet and _sensual _that nothing but a muffled squeak leaves her lips as she watches him do it.

His gaze meets hers and Hiwa swears she's going to combust. Genma is doing this on purpose, he must be, because there is a distinct thread of satisfaction that runs through every inch of his face as his lips linger on her skin. They're as warm and soft as Hiwa remembers.

Any form of articulate thought dribbles out of Hiwa's ears and all she can bring herself to say is, "Holy shit, you're so pretty…"

That cracks whatever mask Genma had going, enough that a laugh slips out.

Hiwa finds herself laughing, as well, and immediately regrets it when her ribs creak in protest. She winces, and the movement has her instinctively pulling back on her arms as if to wrap them around her torso.

Rei's head perks up.

Genma drops her hands and all the humor fades from his face. "Shit, I—"

"Fine," Hiwa manages, trying not to wheeze. She waves Rei off. "It's fine. Seriously."

The pain disappears again after a few steady breaths. But Genma keeps looking at her with thinly veiled concern in his eyes and Hiwa remembers what he said about thinking he'd lost her, the fact that he's stuck by her side the whole time she's been in the hospital.

She grabs his hand and pulls him towards her, hoping he'll get the message.

Hiwa rolls her eyes when he hesitates. "If you don't come over here and kiss me," she says, "then I'm going to have to try and go over there."

Genma gives her a small smile and, discarding his senbon, climbs forward so his knee is rested on the edge of her bed. He uses one hand to steady himself on the back of the bed. His other hand cradles the back of her neck as he leans forward. His movements are slow and careful, and Hiwa tips her head back to look at him as he hovers over her.

"Better?" he asks, so close that his breath tickles her face as he speaks.

"Much."

He presses a single gentle kiss on her lips. He pulls away for a second, long enough that Hiwa opens her eyes and catches sight of his grin, before he goes in again for something a bit more. Firmer, more sure. The type of kiss she's come to expect from him. She feels the sparks pool in her gut like burning embers and her hand reaches up to rest on his shoulder.

Instinctively, she shifts as the kiss deepens, wanting to move closer. Her ribs pinch. Hiwa gasps at the prickles of pain and starts to pull back, curling inwards.

"Whoa, hey," Genma says. He leans away. His hand moves up to sit behind her ear and he looks even more concerned than before. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Hiwa feels her face scrunch up as her expression sours. She lets out a low, tight breath, waiting for the pain to subside, and says, "I can't wait for these to heal." When he looks at her expectantly, she smooths out her expression into a smile for him. "I'm sure. I promise. I keep forgetting they're tender, but they're not that bad."

Rei whines from her blanket throne and Hiwa throws her an exasperated look.

She's distracted from that, though, when Genma brushes the hair away from her forehead and drops a kiss on it. Hiwa closes her eyes and savors the feel of it, sighing.

"We've got time," he murmurs.

"Yeah. We do. I've just… really missed that."

"That makes two of us." Genma drops back down into his chair. "A few more days," he says. He gives her a _look_. "As long as you don't make them worse."

She lets her head thump back into her pillow and forces herself to ignore the stupid, impatient sense of disappointment starting to grow in her stomach. She's made it _so long_, a few extra days shouldn't be any issue.

"I know, I know."

A few more days. She'll make it.

* * *

Hiwa flips the page of her book and idly runs her hands through her unbraided hair.

In the chair beside her, Raidou scribbles away at his mission report.

The afternoon sun filters in through the window and warms the skin on her face in a way that has Hiwa missing being outside settled under a tree, the grass tickling her bare skin, but Hiwa pushes that feeling down.

"How's the report going?" Hiwa asks.

Raidou makes a low, non-committal noise. "Fine enough, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Honestly, there's not a lot to say," he mutters. "We went there. They were obviously dead. The camps were abandoned. That's it."

Hiwa gives a small laugh. "That exciting?"

"It was one of the most boring A-ranks I've ever taken."

"Wonder what they're sending Genma for, then."

"Think he's going more north than I was. There've been actual reports of activity, there—our squad was just sent out as confirmation."

"A formality, I guess," Hiwa says. "Double checking that Kusa is gonna hold to the treaty and… reminding them of why it's in their best interest that they do."

"After that showing by Hatake? Yeah. They've basically backed down completely."

"Probably. But it's always worth—"

The door to Hiwa's room slams open and she jumps, startled, and mutters a handful of curses at the stitch of pain in her ribs. Raidou stiffens beside her and she catches the way his hand moves to his waist pouch.

For a split second, everybody in the room freezes.

Rei is the first to recover as she gets up from her bed and trots over to greet the intruders, a gruff yip leaving her and her tail wagging.

"Taru," Hiwa breathes. "Kami."

The man in question is in full mission gear and covered in dirt and scratches, telltale signs of a long trip through the trees and an unforgiving pace. His hair is pulled up into a bun.

Hiwa sees Hachi the beagle poke his nose around Taru's leg. He and Rei dance around each other, sniffing and barking.

"Jeez, finally she's with the land of the living," Taru says, stepping inside. "This is the third time I've come to visit you and the first time you've actually been _awake _for it."

Raidou relaxes. He closes his eyes and Hiwa can hear him counting back from five under his breath. "Couldn't you have _knocked_?"

"I could have, but I didn't realize she was going to have visitors." Taru squints. "Raidou, right?"

Hiwa holds up a hand. "Wait—you two know each other?"

"Yeah," Raidou says. "I'm the one who got to knock on his door at ass-o-clock in the morning to tell him when Kakashi brought you back."

Hiwa looks between Raidou and Taru. Her back tightens, her eyes narrow, and she gives Taru a careful look.

Taru rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you," he says. "Am I thrilled that I had to find out from somebody else that you'd gone on a dangerous mission and got super injured on it in the middle of the night? No. Am I thrilled that both of the times I've come to try and visit you, you've been out cold because you're irresponsible and incapable of respecting your own limits? Not particularly. But…"

He wanders over and places a hand on her head, ruffling her hair a bit. A tired smile breaks out over his face. "Mostly, I'm just glad you're alright, kid."

Hiwa returns his smile, her posture loosening. "Thanks, Taru."

Raidou clears his throat.

"She's getting out today, yeah?" Taru asks him.

"Yeah. The medics should be by in a couple hours to do the last round on her ribs and lungs, to clean up the last bit of damage. And they're gonna take a look at her foot to decide how much more to treat it. As long as all that goes well, which they think it will, she'll be out before dinner." Raidou shrugs. "I'm just here to make sure she gets home alright."

If it wasn't for the fact that the medics refused to discharge Hiwa without somebody else present, she'd have a protest of some kind at the thought that she cannot make a twenty-minute walk alone through the village. But as is, she has been deemed untrustworthy and incapable, so she keeps her mouth shut.

Taru nods. "Give me an hour to go shower and change, and I'll come back to take care of it."

"If you want to," Raidou says. "But I don't mind, if you need to go home and rest."

"Don't worry about it. She's my responsibility—I'll be fine." He glances at Hiwa. "That alright with you?"

Hiwa smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine with me."

.

.

"So, kid. How are things?"

"Better."

"That so?"

"Uh-huh. We… talked things out."

"Fucking finally."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. He said that your talk with him set his head on straight."

"As it _should _have."

"Which I don't know how I feel about you going and finding him like that and going all overprotective male on him—"

"It was for his benefit as much as yours. He needed to hear it from somebody who's been there."

"Whatever. But, anyways. I think we're doing good. We're gonna stick it out."

"I got to talk with him a bit both times I tried to visit you. He seems like a good guy, aforementioned bullshit aside. You sure could have done a lot worse for yourself."

"Well… he might not be the only guy."

"Excuse me?"

"We, well. He offered to do something a bit more open than a traditional relationship, and I think I'm going to take him up on it. And both of us have a thing for somebody, so. We might try and bring him into this, too."

"That—is interesting. Look, that's not my kind of thing, kid. But if you two are sure about it and you'll both be happy, then that's all that matters."

"Thanks, Taru."

"Anytime."

* * *

Hiwa shuffles her way through the village, Rei at her side, as the cool winter air brushes against her cheeks. She's grateful her lungs are fully healed—she can't imagine trying to breathe in this air would have been much fun if they weren't.

Her crutches click with each step she takes along the worn path.

The medics are taking their time on her foot. Hence why, even a week after she was released from the hospital, she's still on crutches. They want to take it slow and heal it bit by bit while allowing her body to do some of the work as well. The fear is that healing it too fast might fuse parts together that really shouldn't be fused together, given how many pieces her foot ended up in.

It's not fun or comfortable, but she won't complain too much. It's a built in excuse for why she's still working her way towards Jiraiya's office when she was meant to be there a solid hour and a half ago. Which is par for the course but this time she has her injury she can blame it on, so nobody is allowed to complain.

Or at least, they shouldn't.

It doesn't stop Jiraiya from saying, "Where the fuck have you been?" as she makes her way through the door into his office.

"I'm injured," Hiwa huffs. "Be nice to me."

"_Kami_."

"Come on! You try making that trip with crutches. You'd take a while, too."

"Remind me next time to come and pick you up myself," he mutters. "Then you'll have no room for excuses."

"Fine by me."

Jiraiya scoffs. "Luckily for you, the other person involved was also late, so it's not all that big of a deal."

Hiwa raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Other person?"

"Through there." He uses his thumb to gesture to the door in the back of his office, one that Hiwa's been through a couple of times. "Fourth door on your right."

"Should I be scared? Is there something I need to know, here?"

"Hmm?"

"No, nu-uh. You don't get to point me to an interrogation room and be confused when I'm suddenly concerned."

"You're being dramatic."

"Am I?"

"Just go already. It's fine. You aren't interrogating somebody, I swear to you."

Hiwa mutters to herself but she takes his word for it and heads on over to the door.

As instructed, she makes her way down half the hall until she gets to the fourth set of doors and pulls on the handle for the door on her right. It takes a few seconds of fumbling, with how heavy the door ends up being and her crutches, but she manages to wedge herself through the small opening she almost takes a step inside when the smell hits her.

Artificial strawberry.

Hiwa freezes and gives herself a second to process. Slowly, she turns to look inside of the room, still borderline in the doorway, and sees a wide-eyed Kakashi sitting at the interrogation table.

"What are you—"

Kakashi stands up.

Everything about him screams 'cornered animal' to her, from the coiled posture to the cagey, panicked glint to his eyes. She can _see _the way he's planning his escape and something in her chest constricts.

She has two options, right now.

If she comes into the room the door will close behind her and neither of them will be able to get out until Jiraiya comes and opens it from the outside. The doors only open from there—safety precaution. Somebody monitors from the outside through the grainy cameras and two-way mirror to her right.

If she steps back then he can leave, if that's what he wants to do.

But it's up to her. The way she's standing in the doorway, there's no way for him to get past her without knocking her over, and at this point, she can't see him doing that.

Hiwa hates to admit it but there's an ugly sort of draw to the first option because she hasn't spoken to Kakashi since coming back. He never visited her in the hospital. Didn't send a letter. Hasn't stopped by her apartment to steal her food and books or give Rei treats.

She started to wonder if maybe he had been sent out on a mission again and hadn't had a chance to talk with her. Which is unlikely given that she knows Kakashi and his choice to flee is as on par with him as lateness is with her. But, she hoped.

She wants to talk to him. Desperately so.

Never, though, would she force him into talking with her.

Hiwa steps back as much as she can, using her back to push the door open, and before she can blink Kakashi is gone in a puff of dust and leaves.

Jiraiya trails out through the now open door to his office and gives Hiwa a look.

All Hiwa can do is give him a vaguely disgusted, vaguely confused expression, with a 'what the fuck' hand gesture to accompany it.

"Okay, in my defence, I knew you weren't going to do it."

"... _what_?"

"I've been egging him on to talk with you for a solid two weeks. He wouldn't budge. So, I told him that I would give him an early manuscript of the next Icha Icha book if he came and talked things out with you."

"Were you dropped off of the Hokage Monument as a baby?" Hiwa asks. "Like, fell the fifty or sixty feet and landed all soft-headed on the dirt below?"

"I knew he was going to try and run and like I already said, _I knew you wouldn't make him do it_."

Hiwa looks up at the ceiling, a cigarette craving burning in the back of her throat. She's been pretty good—the hospital wouldn't let her smoke in there for obvious reasons and she didn't want to push her luck, so she never snuck around it. But she hasn't touched one since she was released, either.

Which is going to change the second she gets out of this shithole of an office.

"So what was the point of all of this, then?"

Jiraiya scowls. "For the love of—Kakashi needed to see for himself that nobody here is going to make him do anything out of his terms. I'm sure he knows it, but fuck if that kid ever puts that knowledge to use. He would have run and run and run until somebody threw his ass down and _forced _him to look and understand that he's not going to have people try and push him where he doesn't want to go.

"I know you, Hiwa. I know you wouldn't push him once you saw how _terrified _he is of all this shit. Kakashi needed to see it for himself, too. And if I hadn't forced him to, I don't think he ever would have given you the chance to show him."

Hiwa sighs. "This plan is either impressively well thought or ridiculously stupid and I haven't decided yet."

"Have some faith. Give it a couple weeks. If he hasn't figured himself out by then, feel free to send your death beast to piss all over my life again."

"I will. Your house, your office… I dunno, somewhere else, too. I'll get creative."

Jiraiya pinches the bridge of his nose. "You really do exist to make my life more difficult."

"It's payback. Universal karma for every bath house your creepy ass has ever wrongly defiled."

"I look _respectfully_."

"We're not doing this again," Hiwa says. "You'll defend yourself and I'll go burn your underwear, stick squeakers in your shoes, and swap out your soy sauce for that one brand that gives you the runs so you'll squeak and fart your way through your 'research' sessions with no underwear to keep your pants skid-free, and—"

"Get the fuck out of my office."

"With pleasure."

.

.

When Hiwa gets a knock on her door later that night, there's a brief, vain hope that it might be Kakashi, which evaporates almost as soon as it appears when Hiwa remembers that Kakashi has never and will never knock at her door.

So, she rolls her eyes and calls from the couch, "Who is it?"

"Nara Shikaku."

"Seriously?" she mutters to herself.

"Seriously."

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Come in."

Shikaku strolls through the door and shucks off his shoes. He takes the apartment in with a quick glance around. An expression of bored disinterest is firmly in place on his face, though Hiwa doubts there's much real about that.

Once he's satisfied, he wanders over and settles himself on the couch across from her, crossing his legs with a sigh.

"So," he says. "I'm guessing you've been filled in on the progression of things."

"I have, yeah."

"Great. What do you plan to do about it?"

Hiwa gives him a confused look. "You don't seriously expect me to tell you that."

"It's worth asking."

"Is that all you came here to do?"

Shikaku scoffs. "Hardly."

Hiwa makes an impatient gesture with her hand when he doesn't move to elaborate.

"You do at least plan on doing something though, right?"

"... yes."

"Well, that's good. I would have been disappointed if you weren't."

"Why? Isn't this just more work for you?"

"I'm hoping not."

"This is getting kind of annoying, what—"

"I know what Jiraiya told you," Shikaku said. "About your mother being on the council."

"You do," she says. "Okay."

He rolls his eyes. "Who do you think tipped him off?"

Hiwa sits up a bit more on the couch, moving the blanket from off her lap. She gives Shikaku a long, hard look, taking in the way he's sitting with his fingers steepled in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. He hasn't broken eye contact with her yet.

"You don't want to keep doing this."

"Frankly, I was never particularly interested in starting this," he says dryly. "But I've grown especially tired of it, at this point. Did you think I was keeping you up to date on things, showing you my hand, for fun?"

Her face heats up when she realizes the answer is 'yes'. "Then why do it?"

"Because I respect my council and have obligations to keep to them. Not to mention that they made valid points throughout this whole situation. Having your mind in the clan—regardless of whether or not you had kids, let me be clear—was worthwhile. I'm sure you've got plenty of valuable knowledge to pass on that the clan would have benefitted from. My actions are my own, and I won't pawn the responsibility off on my council." He gives her a sardonic grin. "But let me just say that I find the business of forcing marriages to be… distasteful. I never would have entered that fight if not for some pressure from certain members on my council."

"Really."

"You think my parents picked my wife, a clanless chunin, for me?"

Hiwa blinks. Her mouth opens and closes again. "That's… a fair point."

"I've been known to make those every now and then," he says. "But I haven't felt a drive to win this war. Though with that said, I stand by the idea that there should be… care taken with your use of the Shadow Technique. Along with how and when that is potentially distributed to your future children." He pauses, his eyes lingering on her bookshelf. "The fact that you didn't kill yourself trying that thing in the first place is a miracle, like I told you before."

"Yeah."

His gaze sharpens and it snaps back to her. "Tell me truthfully: do you have any intention of trying to teach it to your children, knowing that? Knowing that it could very well kill them to try without proper training, that you can't give?"

Hiwa doesn't hesitate to answer, "No."

It's something she's been thinking about more and more since her talk with Genma in the hospital. The realization that any kids she has will have less of an affinity than she does, and that it will be even _more _dangerous for them. That if they did, somehow, show an ability to use it, she wouldn't want to be the one to teach them—she'd want it to be those who are informed. She'd want them to learn from an actual Nara.

But that ruling by Lord Hokage still doesn't sit right with her.

"I figured as much." Shikaku leans back into the couch, his hands going limp in his lap. "Which is why I think the ruling by Lord Hokage is unnecessary," he says. Hiwa almost laughs at hearing her own thoughts echoed aloud. "If the need comes up, I'd rather your kids get the chance to deal on an individual level rather than being roped in on your behalf."

Hiwa can feel the annoyance bubble up inside of her. "I'm glad to hear that. Really. But then why are we even having this discussion? Why don't you go and tell Lord Hokage all of this and get it dropped?"

"Because I'm not the one you need to convince. I never have been."

"Then who—" Hiwa sighs. "I need to convince my mom."

Shikaku nods. "Get her on your side and the other two on the council will follow. Your mother is well-respected throughout the clan. She's a shrewd, sharp woman, one of the most powerful minds in that clan. She's made a lot of valuable additions to our knowledge on fuinjutsu and forbidden jutsus." He tilts his head, a sarcastic sort of grin on his face. "And she's also incredibly petty."

"She's done this out of some kind of petty revenge on me?"

"I'm not sure that revenge is the right word. Actually, I know it isn't. And you're more a surrogate than the intended target. But it's not my place to elaborate on this."

Hiwa's head falls back against the couch. "Very helpful, thank you."

"Hey, I could have never come and talk to you in the first place."

"So why did you?"

"Because despite what you might think, I have a lot of respect for you."

Hiwa squints, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

"You came up with a strategy to dodge two major clans and the backbone to go through with it," he says. "Not to mention that I've read a fair few of your mission reports over the years and have seen the finesse you use to execute your plans. It's clear you've got as brilliant a mind in that thick skull of yours."

"... over the years?"

"I'm both the Jonin Commander and the head of the Strategy Division. If you think for a second that your mission reports don't land on my desk then you're dead wrong."

"It makes sense," she says. "I just hadn't realized you were keeping tabs on me for that long."

The thought that he'd been aware of her like that is odd, to say the least—knowing that you're on somebody's radar only years after you first landed there is like finding out that a bird had shit on your shoulder earlier in the day when you're pulling them out of the wash, having now gotten the whole load covered in shit.

He raises an eyebrow. The corner of his lips lift up in a smirk. "We're also technically cousins. Your mother is my aunt. It was tactical to keep an eye on the info you were bringing in, but the relation definitely played a part in my interest."

"That's almost sweet."

He snorts. "Not necessarily what I was building to, but I'll take it."

Hiwa waves him on.

"Have you considered coming back to the Strategy Division?" he asks. "Now that things in the village are starting to settle into peace times properly."

"You want me to come back" she asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"Am I not supposed to?"

"I—well, I guess not? Does Jiraiya know about this offer?"

"I figured it was better to go through you first, so no. But I don't expect you to stick around full-time. More of a fifty-fifty thing." He gives her a considering look. "Unless you'd want to quit doing field work."

Does she want to?

Hiwa frowns, one of her hands settling over her mouth.

No. No, she doesn't want to quit doing field work entirely, she thinks she would lose her mind if she did. Being able to travel and see everything the elemental nations has to offer is the part of doing field work she genuinely enjoys. She wouldn't miss the combat and danger and everything, but she'd miss the freedom, the opportunity to explore every nook and cranny, unique culture and celebration.

She'd miss the chance to see new places and meet new people.

Hiwa looks down at her foot. She thinks of the gruesome journey from Grass Country, the week and a half in the hospital, the tired way Genma and Jiraiya looked as they visited her, the panicked face Kakashi made as she passed out…

Maybe stepping down a bit also wouldn't be the worst idea out there.

"Think about it," Shikaku says. "I don't expect an answer from you anytime soon."

"I… yeah. Yeah, I'll think about it."

Without another word, Shikaku hauls himself up from the couch and slouches towards her front door. He steps into his shoes. And with a hand thrown over his shoulder in a wave, he walks out of her apartment.

The weight falls from her shoulders as Hiwa releases a long breath into the once more still apartment air.

Yeah.

She'll be thinking about all of that.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

_Life is about choices, some that we_

_regret and some that we're proud of,_

_some that haunt us and some we forget,_

_but all of which _ _that shape us._

* * *

It's the smell of coffee that wakes Hiwa up.

Freshly brewed with her favourite beans, the scent worms its way into her nose and has her out of bed and fumbling for her crutches before she can even comprehend the fact that she's awake. She feels Rei bump against her leg and poke Hiwa's hip with her nose, warm and damp.

"Mornin', girl," Hiwa mumbles. She pets Rei between the ears. "Who'd you let in?"

Rei bounds out of her room with a low bark, her tail wagging back and forth and her butt wiggling as she goes, and Hiwa follows along behind her.

Kakashi or Genma, then. _Maybe _Taru.

She can't smell whoever it is with the overwhelming smell of coffee blocking out everything else as she totters her way towards the kitchen.

When she breaks out of the hallway and into her living room, the morning (afternoon? She didn't even check the time) sunlight jabs Hiwa in the eyes. She winces and raises a hand to block it out, her success limited by the crutches.

"Only been five minutes since I put the coffee on. Less time to get you up than food, but still better than most other things. Good to know."

Hiwa squints at him; waking up to somebody in her apartment has no right to be such a regular, expected thing. "Haven't I already told you to quit profiling me first thing in the morning?"

"Sorry," Genma says. He grins at her. "Can't help it."

"Right."

He's sitting on her counter, a mug of tea held in his hand. Another mug sits on the counter beside him. She can see the coffee in it over the lip, the light brown Hiwa always aims for when she adds cream, and the smell of it is tinged with a whisper of cinnamon.

Despite herself, she grins sleepily and shuffles over. She leans one of her crutches against the counter and picks up the mug. The familiar, comforting taste warms her tongue as she takes a sip, and Hiwa lets out a little, satisfied sigh.

"How'd I do?"

"Could use a bit more sugar and cinnamon, but… pretty good."

"Noted," he says, sliding the senbon out of his mouth. "How're you feeling? Everything healing alright?"

Hiwa takes another sip. "Feeling alr—" A yawn slips out. She shakes her head. "Feeling alright. Ribs and lungs are all healed, minimal to no scarred tissue left behind. Foot's a work in progress, but it should be dealt with in another week or so."

Which is all Hiwa can really say, at this point. Because the medics haven't given her much of an idea about how things are healing and their poker faces are better than any other ninja around, even the interrogation specialists. So, she's stuck waiting until her next appointment, her _last _appointment, to get an idea.

Genma hops off the counter and sets his mug aside. "That's good."

"As it can be."

He steps closer to her, into her space.

Hiwa takes the hint. She also sets her mug down and pushes off of the counter, and Genma loops his arm around her waist.

There's something warm and comfortable about the way his hand feels settled on her hip, one of his fingers tucked inside the hem of her shorts. It's not the fireworks from before. This feeling is gentle, subdued, and relaxing. Like how it felt to sleep in her bed again after being stuck in the hospital, to wake up to something familiar and peaceful.

It feels like home.

Hoping she might wake up a bit if she waits it out, she stands there, silent, leaning against him because she's too tired to hold herself up without her crutches this early. Little of her fatigue fades. If anything, the feeling of being held makes her more tired, rather than less.

Time to try talking, then.

She asks, "How was the mission?"

"Unexciting. We had one run-in with some Kusa nin. The situation de-escalated before it turned into something, which is the best way it could have gone, but it was still a pretty boring way to spend the last week and a half." His chin drops onto her head and his other hand goes around her waist as well.

"What were they doing there?"

"Said they were finishing up an escort mission in Iron. They were just heading back and hadn't meant to get so close to the border. It was just a handful of chunin and they had a mission scroll to prove it, so we let them go."

Hiwa hums. She opens her mouth to say something and another yawn swallows it up.

A chuckle rumbles through Genma's chest.

She shakes her head, wondering what it's like to be somebody that can just wake up and be functional in less than an hour without the aid of caffeine or a cold shower. "Not that hard to forge a mission scroll," she mumbles. "And I'm saying that from experience."

"Definitely not, but they looked pretty freaked out and like they'd been travelling for a while."

"Even if they were up to something, they can run back to Kusa and let them know that we're still prepared and able to back up our borders."

"Yep." He pulls back enough that he can look down at her. "I miss anything while I was gone?"

"Jiraiya almost emotionally scarred Kakashi."

Both of Genma's eyebrows go up.

Feeling her good foot start to fall asleep again, Hiwa pulls away from him and relocates herself to the kitchen table. Genma trails along behind her with her mug of coffee in hand.

Hiwa drops down into the chair. She rubs at her eyes, fighting off the urge to yawn _again_. "I told Jiraiya that I wanted to know where Kakashi was, to talk with him. Just because of the stuff that happened on the mission, and… you know. And Jiraiya ended up, uh. Arranging a meeting between us in an interrogation room where he would have locked us in there together until we talked everything out."

"That… sounds like a terrible idea."

"That's what I said. Apparently he knew I wouldn't go through with it, and that was his justification for it. He wanted to show Kakashi that I wasn't going to pressure him, blah blah blah…" Hiwa makes a vague gesture with her hand. "I'm kind of just. Waiting on Kakashi, at this point."

Genma sticks the senbon back into his mouth. "I could probably find him if you want me to."

"Nah," she says. "Thanks, but… I think I need to let him come to me."

"Probably for the best."

"Mhm."

"I mean, other than that… anything exciting happen?"

"Shikaku and I had a talk."

A certain stiffness invades Genma's posture, and his hand, resting on the table, balls into a fist. "Did you?"

"Seriously, it was fine," she says. "He basically told me that he's ready to drop all of this if I can convince my mom to let it go. Said that he never really wanted to deal with this in the first place but that the council has been pretty insistent that he do it."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know if I should, but… I think I do." She shrugs. "I think that it's like with Tsume. I don't think it excuses him, that the council was the driving force behind it. But I believe that this wasn't necessarily what he wanted to do, and that if I can convince my mom, he'll drop it. He has nothing to gain from lying about that—it'd be to his detriment, if I convinced my mom to let it go and he wasn't actually interested in doing it, because that'd just be causing conflict with his council for no reason."

"That makes sense," Genma says. His posture relaxes a bit. "I see."

Hiwa considers mentioning the job offer he gave her as well, but she holds that to herself for now. She's still thinking that one through. It's been sitting in the back of her mind, rolling to the forefront every couple of days before she pushes it back again.

"It doesn't change what I planned to do, anyways. I already knew that I needed to go and talk with my mom. It just… means that there's a better chance something will come of it. If I can actually convince her, that'll be the end of it."

"Well. It's something."

"Yeah, that's basically how I feel."

She leans her arm on the table and pillows her chin on it. She lifts her other hand and, smiling tiredly, twines her fingers through his.

"If it makes you feel better," she says, "I did get the chance to read a lot, which was nice. So it wasn't all bad."

"Yeah? Anything particularly good?"

"One that was decent, actually. Taru brought me this one book about a genin trying to make it through the chunin exams after a few years in retirement…"

* * *

Being alone in one of her little corners of the village brings Hiwa a certain sense of peace that she hasn't had in a while.

She appreciates that Genma hangs around, a constant presence in her abode since he's gotten back from his mission. He's making up for lost time, something she wants to do as well, because they don't know how much time they have until he gets called away again. The cuddles and kisses are a nice bonus.

Raidou comes along sometimes too, and Hiwa doesn't mind that because he's a pretty interesting guy. Nice. Polite. Doesn't break in through her window.

Even when some of Genma's _other _friends tag along, it's still fun. They're a lot to deal with; she hasn't figured out yet if Genma is choosing to bring them or if they're just following him when he comes to her apartment. She doesn't mind it, though, even if it makes her apartment feel a bit too small.

Taru has stopped by every second day or so. He brought her books and food and Tsu came yesterday, so they finally got to catch up.

No Kakashi so far, unless he's been coming in the middle of the night when she's asleep, which isn't a possibility she's ruled out. She's keeping tabs on that.

But needless to say Hiwa has done more proper, non-work related socializing since waking up in the hospital in the last few weeks than she has in years. And it's starting to wear on her. Thus, she's hidden herself away for the day, a picnic basket full of food and a couple of books brought along with her.

She's close enough to the village walls that Rei took the opportunity to explore the larger forests beyond where she goes most of the time. Hiwa can feel her bounding around a ways away.

Her crutches are leaned up against a tree trunk. She's laid out on a nice, soft blanket, and bundled up with another to help ward away the late October chill. (Not that it ever gets particularly cold in Fire Country, not compared to other parts of the Elemental Nations.) A pillow sits beneath her foot to prop it up.

The sun is still up in the sky, though it doesn't bear down on her like a pissed-off desk chunin the way it would a month or two ago. More, it lingers, detached but not absent.

It's nice.

Hiwa has the sun on her face and a book in one hand, a cup of steaming coffee in the other.

Which is why she's so disappointed that three hours after settling in, Inuzuka Tsume, of all people, marches through the treeline to interrupt her peace. Hiwa can hear her a few minutes out—she doubts Tsume is trying to be quiet.

Though whether Tsume _can_ is a whole other question.

Hiwa keeps reading, though. Even when Tsume approaches, Kuromaru on her heels, Hiwa doesn't take her attention off of her book.

"The fuck are you doing all the way out here?"

"Reading."

"_Why_?"

"How long did you have to go out of the noisy part of the village to find me?"

Tsume mutters to herself, the words "brat" and "impossible" mixed in there.

"What can I do for you, Tsume?"

"Well," Tsume says dryly as she drops onto the ground in front of Hiwa's blanket, "I'm here to tell you what _I _am doing for _you_."

"Uh-huh."

"Taru's been on my ass for the last month to give you access to the village for the October 10th memorial every year from now on. I finally got the council to agree to grant it yesterday."

Hiwa freezes. Her gaze crawls up from her book to Tsume's face. She slips a hair tie into her book and snaps it shut. "That so?"

"Yes," Tsume says. "And there's no catch, either. 'Cause I know your brain probably jumped to that conclusion."

"Then how—"

"Your father was a well-respected member of the clan for his whole life. And I—along with a few other outspoken clan members—reminded them of that." Tsume gives her a long look. "I put my foot down on this one. As much as they 'agreed' I didn't really give them a _choice_."

Hiwa sets her book down and takes a sip of her coffee, turning the situation over in her head. Tsume, for all she's an open book, is almost harder to read because of it. She's loud and unapologetic and has a way of hiding falsehoods behind difficult to ignore bravado, and without any of that bravado present, Hiwa isn't sure what to make of this.

She decides to trust the sincerity she senses, though. Tsume deserves that much after everything she's done for Hiwa, regardless of the last few months. "Thank you," she says. "I… really do appreciate that."

Tsume shrugs. "Think it's the least I can do, at this point. But you're welcome."

Hiwa nods, watching Tsume, waiting to see if she says anything else.

After a beat of silence Tsume asks, "Are you happy?"

The question has Hiwa stopping mid sip, the thermos lid she's using as a cup pressed to her lips and tilted upwards. She sets it down. Licks her lips.

She's still somewhat injured. All of the shit around her marriage that was supposed to be behind her refuses to die once and for all. She's got a question mark of a relationship with Kakashi. She's started questioning what, exactly, she wants to do with her ninja career.

But then she thinks about Jiraiya teasing her and then launching himself out of her hospital room window. How it felt to have Taru in her apartment with her, lecturing her about having more healthy food in her fridge. The sense of serenity she had nestled in her chest before Tsume wandered over.

She thinks about Genma.

_Almost love, it's almost love; so close she can taste it._

Hiwa grins. "Mostly. I think… I think I'm getting there, though. Ask me again in a few weeks."

"I take it then that you don't regret what you did?"

"Starting this whole mess? Or choosing not to give it up to stay in the clan?"

"Both."

"Never. Even if it went wrong, I don't think I would regret it. I mean, it still could. But I did it for a reason, I had… a point to it. So it's hard to imagine myself regretting it."

Tsume nods, as if that's what she'd been waiting to hear. "Good. That's what I expect from you."

"Even though I chose to leave?"

A sharp grin takes over Tsume's face. "I never said I _liked _it, or agreed with it. Just that it's what I'd expect from you. I'd have been disappointed if you didn't stick to your choices 'cause then you wouldn't be the little brat I remember growing up."

Hiwa stares down at her lap. Her grin fades into more of a smile, though there's a hint of sadness that tinges it. "Yeah?"

"Shit yeah. Are you kidding? You were the scariest kid I've met in years. Nobody could make you do anything and if they tried, your smart ass found a way to talk them out of it. You gave your father grey hairs by his mid twenties."

That pulls a laugh from Hiwa and she shakes her head. "He always got me somehow. He figured out my ways by the time I was like, five or six, I think."

"He did. Was damn impressive, to watch him work through your tactics."

Tsume gets up. She stretches her arms to the sky, letting out a sigh. Once she's done, she pins Hiwa with a look that Hiwa can't quite decipher.

"He'd be proud of you, you know."

"I—"

Tsume waves her off. "You're not as hard to read as you'd like to think."

"That so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well…" Hiwa stares up at Tsume. "Thanks, Tsume."

"Anytime, brat."

Hiwa watches Tsume take off back into the forest. She turns Tsume's words over in her head as she picks her book back up and tries to focus on the pages again.

He'd be proud of her.

Man, she can hope so.

* * *

Hiwa watches, curious, as the medic undoes the last of the casting around her foot and squints at it.

The woman's hands light up green. She presses the pads of her fingers on the joint at Hiwa's angle, then drag them down across the top of her foot, and then back along the underside of it. A trail of icy prickles follow the path of her touch that has a shiver running through Hiwa's spine.

"Any pain?"

Hiwa squints at her name tag.

_Ami._

"None," Hiwa says. "Just kind of cold."

Ami nods. "Good—proper sensation is a good sign." She wraps her palm around Hiwa's foot and presses. "Now?"

"Nope."

"Good, good," she says. She jots down a few notes. "I'm going to test your range of motion, alright?"

"Sure."

She holds Hiwa's foot between her hands and begins to rotate it. First clockwise, then counter clockwise, and a bit of a frown forms when Hiwa's foot seems to stick, almost, before clicking and continuing in the circle, like a record skipping over a scratch. It doesn't hurt. More, it feels stiff.

Ami tries to straighten Hiwa's foot out and force her toe to point and Hiwa winces at the low ache she feels at the movement.

"Not as good." Ami sighs. "We feared this might end up happening."

Hiwa reins in her apprehension at those words, not letting any of it slip out onto her face as she says, "That is?"

"I'm gonna take a closer look, just to double check. May I?"

Hiwa nods.

Ami holds her hands around Hiwa's ankle and they glow green again. She holds them there for a few minutes, her fingers moving centimetres around as her eyes go unfocused, her lips pursed. With slow and careful movements, she starts to rotate Hiwa's ankle again, pausing each time it jams and clicks and waiting before trying again.

Eventually, she lets go and says, "Your range of motion has definitely taken a hit. I think lack of use isn't helping, for sure, but you'll probably start to notice it once you start training again. It shouldn't cause you pain, necessarily—what you just felt there is it's own issue that will fade in a few weeks—but you'll notice some forms and movements… won't be possible."

"What about travel? Is it going to make extended trips more difficult?"

Ami sits back and settles more in her chair. She starts to tap her pencil against her chin. "You'll probably notice a bit of a loss in how fast and easily you can tree jump. I think once you have time to adjust to the way the joint moves now, you'll be able to compensate. Somewhat, at least. It _might _be painful and more prone to soreness if you push it hard enough. I have tape I can give you that you can use to provide a bit of extra support that should ease all of this, some. But you'll have to prep and account for it, at least for the next few months. I'd be more concerned long term, honestly. In twenty or thirty years—that might be when you really see a difference."

Hiwa isn't sure if it's supposed to be, but the idea that she might make it that long is flattering. In her line of work? Making it past thirty is impressive, nevermind forty or fifty.

But that's probably not what she should comment on.

"Do you have an idea of why?"

"Honestly?" Ami asks. She gives Hiwa a tight smile. "Your foot was broken in about fifteen different places. The chances of a perfect heal were less than five percent." She flips a few papers over and starts scribbling a picture of a foot on it. Hiwa notices that she pays the most attention to the back half, where she draws the ankle joint. "The goal by going slow was to keep from fusing anything improperly, and while I didn't notice any of that while I did my examination, I think it might be something else. My guess is that something near your ankle healed too well, if you know what I mean. It's healed where it's supposed to but got a bit too much chakra and the bone… grew where it shouldn't have, I suppose. Like if a ball gets a lump—there's a bit of bone that's chafing on the joint. Though, we'd need to take a closer look to know for sure."

Ami hesitates, back to tapping her pencil against her chin in a steady rhythm. Her legs are crossed, and Hiwa notices her foot start to join in, moving in time with the pencil. "To try and fully repair the damage would take a second surgery, based on what I saw. Though no matter what, we'll want to wait a few months and see how things go."

"How… necessary would you guess it is?"

"That depends. In my personal opinion, given what you specialize in, I'd say not particularly. Honestly, I can't even promise we'd be able to do anything—we'd need to do a consultation to know for sure. But the option is there for you."

Hiwa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Something to think about."

"Yeah," she says, giving Hiwa a pat on the knee. "I'm sorry."

"No, no—it's nothing for anybody to apologize to me about. It's just how these things go. It's just… not what I hoped for."

Ami nods. She discards the diagram and scribbles something else down that she hands to Hiwa. "That's who you'll want to talk to go through with a second surgery, in a few months."

"Thanks."

"Of course."

.

.

Hiwa drops her keys on the stand beside the door as she walks inside.

Genma is laid out on her couch, one arm draped over his eyes, and while he hasn't moved yet she knows that he woke up the second her key slotted into the lock.

She hesitates. But once her feet start moving, she heads into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water, dropping the name and office number Ami gave her on the counter on the way past. She isn't thirsty. Not really. She just needs something to do with her hands as she turns the situation over in her head.

Genma waits until she's holding her glass and leant back against the kitchen counter to sit up and look at her. "Back on your feet," he says. "How'd it go?"

"Not bad."

"But not good?"

She smiles, feeling like it comes out more as a grimace, her finger tapping against her glass. "Could have been better."

"Do I have to keep being vague or can I just ask you what's wrong?"

Hiwa laughs. "You can ask." She adjusts the strap on her white dress, a loose-fitting knee-length thing that she bought for its pockets. "I'll give you a real answer."

He gets up and heads over to her. "Alright," he asks, hopping up onto the counter. "What's wrong?"

"Foot is mostly healed. A bit of stiffness and soreness that should wear off after I've started walking on it again, probably a few weeks. Issue is that something healed wrong and the medic thinks that its preventing the joint from rotating properly."

"That… sounds bad," he says. He frowns.

"It's not great."

"Does it hurt?"

"The joint thing doesn't hurt, no," she says. "It just might impact how well I can move it. She said I might notice that I can't move as fast when I tree hop, that kind of stuff." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the tape, tossing it onto the letter. "I have some tape I can use to support the joint better, which she thinks might help."

Genma nods. "Yeah. That's… not great."

"She offered a second surgery for me, as an option. Though she couldn't promise it would actually be able to fix the issue."

"Do you want to do it?"

Hiwa looks over at the sheet of paper. Her mind flits back to her conversation with Shikaku.

If she goes into a partial retirement from fieldwork, taking lower rank missions and doing desk work to make up for the income loss—which isn't too far at the front of her head, she has a hell of a bank account from what her father left her and her time in the war—the surgery seems a bit ridiculous. The injury won't be something that comes up for her. Surgery, though, is never without a chance for complications.

Seems like an unnecessary risk, in that kind of situation.

But does she want to take the job?

"I'm… not sure, yet."

"I think I'd be concerned if you were," Genma says. "Jumping to a quick decision like that isn't your style, so. And if it was really dire then you'd already know the answer."

"Huh. Yeah. Yeah, that's true."

Genma wiggles his eyebrows. "And now that you're basically all back to health…" He slips back down onto his feet and sidles up beside Hiwa. "I can do this."

Before Hiwa can process what's about to happen, he's grabbed her glass from her and set it down on the counter and thrown her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Hiwa squeaks, surprised, her face _and _neck going bright red and hot. "_Genma_."

"Yes?" he asks. There's undisguised smugness permeating his voice. "Would you like me to put you down?"

She looks down and any kind of protests die a quick death.

It's been a little while since she's been reminded that Genma does, in fact, have a _very _attractive physique. Including a stellar ass. Of which she now has an up close and personal view of.

"Nope," she manages. "I am… just fine, right here." She laughs. "Where are we going, though?"

"This is the first time in, like, three weeks, I can cuddle with you and _not _be scared that I'm going to bump an injury. I'm not wasting any time on that. So, bedroom. Blankets. Pillows. A comfortable surface with a great deal of room."

He doesn't move yet, though. And it takes Hiwa replaying the words in her head again to realize that he's waiting on her to answer.

"Sounds great to me."

"Perfect."

And off they go, Hiwa with a hand on her skirt to keep from flashing Genma as he troops them off towards the bedroom, Hiwa's laughter echoing against the walls.

.

.

Hiwa sighs, her chest warm and fuzzy.

Genma has his head pillowed on her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist, and she has a hand rested on his head. Her fingers card through his hair, her nails grazing his scalp.

He's not asleep. Close, maybe. So is she.

They're in that euphoric middle ground right before sleep. Where everything has a soft filter over it and the edges of your mind blur. Dreamlike. A perfect moment. Well, as close to perfect as anything can get. The kind of moment she wants burned into her memories for the rest of her life.

Hiwa knows that she's almost lost the battle at this point and, any second now, will be out like a light for a good few hours.

She smiles down at him, a smile he can't see.

_Home._

_So close to love. So, so close._

Her hand stops moving as she closes her eyes and the blanket of sleep washes over her. Genma's head moves beneath her hand.

The last thing she feels is Genma's hand grabbing hers, holding it tight, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face, more content then than she has been in years.


End file.
